


As for the rest of it, leave to higher spirits now

by Anonymous



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Author's Pretentiousness, Clumsy Literary Allusions, Even Clumsier Philosophizing, Pre-Canon, Prostitution, Season 2 Spoilers (Mainly in Subtext), Suicidal Thoughts, The Subtlety of an Anvil, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 48,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The first time he came back they seemed to think it a gift, and their wide eyes were as full of wonder and envy as Ben's; he can't remember when they turned to sorrow and pity, time doesn't exist anymore.This is turning out to have an extremely rarefied plot, and it's pretty much just a bunch of recursive character pieces. Sorry.
Comments: 103
Kudos: 225
Collections: Anonymous





	1. 1. Klaus

**Author's Note:**

> A kinkmeme prompt fill that grew little stumpy legs and has little do to with the prompt at this point.  
> Title is from Sappho's Brothers Poem, because I'm a pretentious lesbian.  
> I have no real plan for where this is going, or if it is going anywhere at all, sorry.
> 
> The prompt was:  
> Klaus is kidnapped by a serial killer when he's on the streets. He's the perfect target being a junkie who no one would miss.
> 
> After tormenting him (you can include noncon if you want) the killer finishes him off. He just wasn't expecting the body to wake up a bit later. The serial killer realizes that Klaus will always come back after being killed. Something Klaus didn't even know.
> 
> He's a mess when Diego finally finds him. Dying that many times is not good for you

For the first time since he can remember, the ghosts crowding around him are offering comfort and encouragement.  
It just makes him even more aware of how hopeless he is: nobody asks him for help, they know he can't help anyone.  
  
The first time he came back they seemed to think it a gift, and their wide eyes were as full of wonder and envy as Ben's; he can't remember when they turned to sorrow and pity, time doesn't exist anymore.  
  
Ben hasn't said a word in a good while. He's not sure how long ago it was, but he remembers very clearly the last words Ben spoke - even though everything since is a blur, he can't forget the moment he found out exactly how much pain a human body can feel. Ben looked at him just before he visited the little girl again, and softly told him "if I still had a body, I would tear his to pieces."  
Since then, Ben's been sitting quietly next to him, hand outstretched like it would run fingers through his hair if only it had fingers.  
He wishes Ben would say something, but at the same time there's nothing he wants to hear.  
At this point, he's already gone through a phase of needing company and comfort for his terror, and a phase of wanting solitude and privacy for his agony; he has no fear or shame anymore, there's no point to comfort or privacy. There's only despair and torment now.  
  
There's an older lady who whispers snippets of lullabies in between his screams and whimpers. He remembers her, he thinks; she used to beg outside of a diner near a corner he sometimes hooked at. He remembers her surrounded by a few plastic bags containing all her possessions, with an old, tired dog curled up next to her.  
He remembers once a group of kids threw empty beer cans at her and insulted her until she gathered up her bags, her dog, and her cup of quarters, and moved to a different alley. He remembers not doing anything to help her.  
She disappeared a few weeks ago, and he thought nothing of it when he saw the dog by itself, shivering and burrowing in the plastic bags.  
Two boys look at him with big, mournful eyes - he remembers them too, they were colleagues of sorts for a while. Competition, more like; they were both as pretty as him while alive, and he remembers being happy when, one after the other, they stopped showing up at his same haunts and stealing his johns.  
Now they barely have any facial features at all other than those eyes, full of hurt, compassion and pity.  
Like Ben, they don't speak: one has had his tongue ripped out and the other has no voice box anymore.  
He doesn't recognize anyone else, but he recognizes all of them at the same time - they're all the same as him, after all, homeless, junkies, hookers. People nobody will notice missing. Forgotten. Easy pickings.  
  
When it first started, Ben was full of I-told-you-sos; and Ben did tell him so.  
Unlike him, Ben had thought something of the old lady going missing, and hadn't rejoiced at the two boys vanishing, and had noticed the pattern of disappearances nobody else seemed to care about.  
Ben told him to be careful, but he wasn't.  
The man had a very nice car and an expensive suit, and was offering more money than what he usually charged his johns - he should have known, nobody pays a hooker more than they ask for.  
He should have known, Ben told him so.  
His stash was running low, though.  
  
He still thought it might just be a very intense scene before his high wore off and all the ghosts showed up, because he's stupid like that.  
  
Before he died the first time, when there was still hope even though the pain was getting more and more unbearable, Ben stopped berating him and started begging him to hold on, that someone would find him and save him. They both knew Ben was lying, but it was such a sweet lie to believe for a time.  
When he first came back to life with a big, shuddering gasp, his body still throbbing in pain, and saw the man's eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, he still, somehow, thought it would end at some point.  
It took six more deaths for it to sink in fully: there's no way out for him. He doesn't get an ending, just this.  
That's just his luck, isn't it? Another special ability that only brings him agony.  
  
For a while he thought it was all the little girl's doing, she did seem to hate him, after all. He doesn't remember how long ago it changed, but now she just looks sad and tired every time he sees her.  
He does remember begging her to let him stay, if not forever then just a bit longer, and he remembers her dejectedly telling him it wasn't up to her.  
In any other circumstances he would light up a joint and lazily muse on what else in the universe is not up to God, and who might it be up to otherwise. He wouldn't get to any conclusion, and wouldn't have any revelation or breakthrough, but it would kill time for a while, and Ben would humor him because Ben is at his most indulgent when he just gets a mellow high and idly muses about the universe.  
He can almost smell the pot, and if he could just manage to forget himself long enough he thinks he could hear Ben's comments - he knows Ben would sound amused despite himself, and he loves when Ben sounds like that, it makes him feel less of a failure when he can amuse Ben.  
  
This is the only escape he has now.  
He'll never get out of this warehouse, he knows, he can only get out of himself for precious minutes, before something is done to his body that hurts so much it hurtles him back into it.  
  
The man has rotated through all of his tools a couple of times now, and is experimenting with heating them up until they're white hot; he seems fascinated by the wounds he inflicts cauterizing themselves as he inflicts them.  
It's not as bad as when acid was poured down his throat and he could feel his organs melting, so he'll take it until the man gets bored and moves to something else.  
He knows at some point the man will start thinking about the same things he's been wondering about - if his limbs are cut off, will they grow back? Maybe the man will decapitate him, that seems like it might stick, he hopes. It's the only thing he can still hope about.  
  
The man is clinical and methodical, he can't help but think that Dad would approve of his thoroughness.  
He might have said it out loud, because Ben is crying softly now.  
He wishes Ben would say something, but there's nothing he wants to hear.  
He wishes he could die.  
He wishes the man would die.  
  
And then the man dies, a knife embedded in his right eye, another in quick succession in the middle of his chest.  
For a delirious moment he feels guilty about wishing it into existence.  
Ben's breathing hitches in a gasp, as if Ben still needs to breathe, and he doesn't know what is happening but he knows it can't be good, because nothing has been good in days - who knows how many, maybe all of them.  
Ben says something, and it's the only thing he wants to hear: "Diego has found you, he will get you out of here, you're safe."  
He doesn't fully believe it until Diego comes into his field of vision, eyes wild and full of worry, full of horror, full of love. The same way Diego has looked at him since they were children, and it feels like all the good parts of home.  
He feels himself starting to hope again, and with hope comes a wave of exhaustion so strong it overtakes him - the last thing he feels is hands touching him with kindness for the first time in what feels like his whole life.  
He goes to sleep lulled by a chorus of whispers, you're safe now. He thinks he can hear Diego's voice among the chorus.  
The old lady sings him a lullaby.  
Fingers run gently through his hair.  
  
He wakes up and everything hurts: that's normal.  
He wakes up and he's not in the warehouse anymore: that's new.  
He's in a bed, it smells like a hospital.  
Diego is sleeping, uncomfortably contorted in a plastic chair at the right side of his bed, Ben is looking at him kindly, standing at his left side.  
He thought he had lost the ability to cry at some point in the past days, as usual he was wrong.  
He cries.  
Fingers run gently through his hair, on both sides.  
He lets himself feel happy to be alive, just for a moment.


	2. 2. Diego

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it went off the rails and started running on its short little legs like a clumsy pony.

It's the fourth John Doe in three weeks, plus three Jane Does.  
No ID, no one to identify their bodies, no family to claim them, bury them, mourn them.  
Eudora refuses to call them anything other than "the victims", but Diego has heard other officers be less kind over the radio, calling them hobos, or junkies, or whores. Like that makes their murders less urgent to solve.  
(Diego likes to think that he would be like Eudora if he had become a cop, even if Klaus wasn't what Klaus is. But he can't be sure, and that pisses him off).  
Diego goes through the reports one more time (if Eudora knew he took them and made copies to keep, he'd never hear the end of it), even though he knows them by heart at this point.  
All signs point to the victims being homeless. (His brother Klaus is homeless).  
The toxicology reports show traces of drugs still present in most of the victims' blood, connoting that they were in all likelihood drug addicts. (His brother Klaus is a drug addict).  
Most of the victims had recently had sexual intercourse; there wasn't enough evidence for the medical examiner to determine that the intercourse had not been consensual. Diego can read between the lines - most of the victims were prostitutes. (He's had suspicions for a long time now that his brother Klaus is a prostitute).  
He forces himself to read through the list of injuries again, even though it makes him want to barf every time. It reads like the old anatomy books Dad would make them study, words like "duodenum" and "mesentery" and "larynx".  
He skims over words like "drill" and "scalpel" and "dilator", and feels a shiver go through his spine.  
He stares at "surgical precision" and "anatomical knowledge" until his vision is blurred.  
(He wishes he had forgotten enough of those anatomy books not to have vivid images in his mind).  
The cause of death for all victims is listed as circulatory shock. Diego had to look this one up, and now wishes he hadn't: they died because of the pain.  
Their killer was focused on making the torture last as long as possible, fixing the worst of the damage before it could kill them, to play with them as long as possible.  
Someone is abducting homeless people, junkies and hookers and torturing them for hours if not days, until their bodies can't take the pain anymore and give out.  
Diego has a homeless, junkie brother who he is pretty sure is a hooker.  
Diego hasn't seen his homeless, junkie, hooker brother in days (and he's been looking).  
  
It sits in his stomach, this all-consuming dread, and he can't seem to shake it.  
He's tried to talk himself out of it, because he does need to eat and sleep at least a little, and the fear keeps him up at night and fills his stomach like a hot boulder.  
Klaus likes to act dumb and airheaded, but he's sharp and wily (but he is an addict and he might have been too out of it or too desperate to notice something was off).  
Klaus has been trained like the rest of them, and knows how to fight (but he seems to keep getting thinner every time they see each other, the last time Diego's thumb and index finger touched around the circumference of Klaus's arm).  
Klaus can be a vicious little fucker, he fights dirty and will cling to life with tooth and nail - literally (but in the past few years he's looked more and more run down and worn out, the drugs and streets taking their toll).  
  
Diego doesn't know if he never noticed or never wanted to notice just how many hollow-eyed, stick-thin, strung-out men and women litter the alleyways at night, selling the only thing they have to whoever will have it.  
He shows them Klaus's mugshot (he looked through all of them, wishing he was surprised at just how many times his brother had been brought in, and found one that he thinks is actually flattering. He hears Klaus's voice in his head thanking him sarcastically, and has to suppress a smile).  
Some of them look at him with suspicion and distrust, thinking he's an undercover cop, and flat-out refuse to even acknowledge him.  
Some are so out of it he's pretty sure they don't understand a word he's saying, and he sticks around them for a while because every time a "client" approaches them he feels this hot surge of protectiveness that doesn't allow him to do anything other than stick around and keep them as safe as he can for as long as he can.  
Some look at him with wet eyes and dilated pupils, and tell him their ass is just as tight and their mouth just as warm as Klaus's in lowered voices he can tell they think are sultry and seductive, but only sound broken and desperate to his ears.  
Others, however, others recognize Klaus.  
Some seem to think he is an annoying little shit, others seem to find him endearing and fun (he feels profound kinship with both camps, but barks "watch your mouth, that's my brother" at the people who insult him, and scoffs "are you sure we're talking about the same Klaus" to the people who say nice things about him).  
Nobody has seen him in over a week though.  
Nobody.  
And all of them say he would show up every couple nights or so, and ruin their clientele with his pretty green eyes and slender tight body (their words, and Diego could have gone a lifetime without knowing his brother is not only definitely a hooker, but apparently a desirable one).  
One of them, who belongs to the camp that dislikes Klaus, tells Diego he last saw him getting into a fucking Bentley with an attractive man wearing a fucking designer suit, because of course Klaus gets the rich, hot john while the rest of them is stuck with old, fat, married men unsatisfied with their marital life who won't pay more than twenty bucks for a blowjob (Diego can taste the boy's bitter jealousy, and for a moment he feels weirdly proud of Klaus, who gets the rich hot men. Then he remembers the rich hot men are paying his brother to fuck him, and might be torturing him as he speaks, and the pride dies out, replaced by the familiar boulder of terror).  
The kid thinks the car was black, but it might have been dark blue, or dark grey, or dark green, or dark fucking purple, who knows, it was night. Of course he didn't take note of the license plate, who does Diego think he is, the fucking pigs?  
So his brother was last seen getting into a dark Bentley with a well-dressed man over a week ago, and that's all Diego has to go by. That's something. (That's not enough).  
  
Eudora knows he thinks Klaus has been taken by the killer she's chasing, and she still understands him well enough to be sure that if she doesn't share her new findings, he will find out anyway.  
She will still fight him over every other case, but not this one (Diego still loves her, and he's very sure of it now more than ever).  
All the victims had similar traces of wood fibers on them, like they had been lying on a surface that had been used to store wooden pallets at some point. Like a shipping container, or a warehouse. (There's over five thousand warehouses in the city, but Diego will go into each and every one of them if he needs to).  
In exchange, Diego tells her about the Bentley, and Eudora looks thunderstruck. She tells Diego they have a witness who saw one of the victims, a John Doe who they determined to be in his mid-twenties, definitely a hooker as well, get into a black Bentley with a man in a suit, and never again after that.  
The best part is there is surveillance footage from the convenience store next door, and they got the license plate. The dark Bentley, which turns out to be dark blue after all, belongs to a Dr. Griffiths, former surgeon turned entrepreneur after a malpractice suit, who owns a company manufacturing - get this, Diego - surgical equipment. His company does own a few warehouses.  
But they have no evidence, the footage doesn't show the victim getting in the car.  
Their witness openly admitted to being high at the time, so they didn't really give much weight to the testimony; the only thing the surveillance footage proves on its own is that Dr. Griffiths was near an alley one of the victims possibly used to work, on a night they can't be sure was the night the victim was abducted.  
They don't have a warrant yet.  
Eudora makes him promise to wait, she will pull all her strings and get a warrant now that there is a second, unrelated testimony, and Diego promises. (He will not wait, and they both know it. He sees it in Eudora's eyes, and knows she understands, even if she does not agree. He knows she will still be disappointed he broke a promise. He wishes he cared a little less about it, but he physically can't keep that promise).  
That very night, he breaks into the station again and copies the list with the addresses of Dr. Griffiths' warehouses. He has five of them, the rich sick fuck, and the first two are just full of surgical equipment (the words printed on the crates make him shudder, even the most innocuous ones. He thinks he will have an aversion to gloves and masks for a while, which sucks really bad for him given his outfit of choice).  
  
In the third, he finds his brother Klaus.  
(He's alive).


	3. 3. Diego

When they were growing up, Diego used to think that Luther couldn't feel any pain, as a sort of secondary power.  
It only made sense: he can't remember Luther ever crying, not even when getting their tattoos, and he would always take the hardest blows for them on missions.  
It made sense that with the power to hit really hard would come the power to get hit really hard.  
Then they were fifteen, on a mission gone unexpectedly south.  
Luther stepped in between Diego and one of the bad guys and shielded him with his body, taking a punch in the kidneys for him. Nothing really out of the ordinary, except that Diego got a front row seat to the horror movie that was his brother's face contorting in pain.  
When he thinks back to that moment, which happens more often than he likes to admit, Diego feels a surge of unfamiliar feelings that confuses him; he decides those feelings are anger and resentment, because there Luther went again, making himself the hero to impress Daddy Dearest, protecting Diego because he thinks Diego is not strong enough to bear as much pain as him.  
He doesn't know it yet, but in a few years he will recognize and accept those feelings for the affection and fondness that they are, and he will recognize and accept that his own unfamiliarity with feeling affection for Luther is just another result of Dad's abuse of them both.  
But when they were growing up, Diego used to think that Luther couldn't feel any pain.   
He was never under any similar impression when it came to Klaus.  
Klaus flaunts and weaponizes his own vulnerability, making a spectacle of every scratch, gulping down people's compassion like the cheapest vodka.  
Of course, he also learned that Klaus will bitch and moan about any small inconvenience, but will curl up like a pillbug in his shield of sarcasm and humor when something really hurts him.   
Klaus, however, can and does feel pain.  
He's never had any doubt about that.

He can't figure it out, and it bugs him to no end. He feels ungrateful and horribly guilty about it, but he can't explain how his brother survived.  
Because the other victims died after 36 to 48 hours, 72 at the most - the drugs wouldn't have shown up in their blood if it had been any longer. Klaus was with that dickbag for at least ten days.   
At first he thought maybe the asshole had been drugging his other victims, which would change the timing of their torture and death; but drugs would have dulled the pain his victims were feeling, and after everything Diego has read and seen he thinks that would have been counterproductive to the shithead's goals.  
So maybe he kept Klaus untouched for a while, like a colorful rug to make his warehouse feel more homey, and had just started torturing him when Diego found them.  
But when Diego found them Klaus was so drenched in blood, sweat, urine, vomit, and shit that he didn't even look like a living thing, just a puddle of bodily fluids.   
Most of that night is a blur now that the adrenaline is gone, but Diego remembers three things very clearly: the smell, the overwhelming tenderness he felt for Klaus despite the smell, and the paralyzing uncertainty of not knowing where to place his hands without causing any more pain. Klaus didn't look like someone who had been tortured for a few hours - he looked like someone who had been tortured for the whole ten days he had spent captive.  
He knows Dad's experiments and training fucked with them all to the point where he wouldn't be surprised to find out their tolerance for pain is much higher than normal, but it still makes no sense to him.   
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth" is what Eudora told him when he first shared his doubts, even though she was still furious with him for killing her suspect, but this thread is still dangling, and he can't let it rest.  
Mom made him a cross-stitch of a hummingbird once when he was eight, and he loved it so much he kept touching it, playing with it, tracing the stitches with his fingers while stubbornly shaping words in his mouth and trying to get them out. Until his clumsy fingers, much more used to the handle of a knife than the delicate fragility of an embroidery, pulled one of the stitches and the loose thread slowly unravelled the whole hummingbird.  
He can't run the risk of this thread unravelling Klaus, who already seems half undone most of the time.   
He needs to tie it up and secure the ends, so it can never dangle again.   
This metaphor is running away from him, because now he's stuck in a pointless debate in his head on which knot would be the best and he doesn't know enough about cross-stitch to have an actual answer, but thinking about something silly for a moment helps: he will need all his wits in a few minutes, because after almost a month they're about to release Klaus from the hospital, and Diego's getting ready for battle.

He knows Klaus has a plan, and he knows his plan begins and ends with drugs, after weeks of forced sobriety. But Diego has a plan too, and his plan ends with Klaus staying in his boiler room apartment, staying as sober and safe as Diego can keep him. He tries picturing Klaus getting in a car with a stranger again, and his whole body rejects that picture so harshly it feels almost like a spasm.  
He has to be careful and deliberate about it though, which he's self aware enough to recognize are not his strongest qualities.  
If Klaus thinks he's offering out of pity, he will refuse and be hurt, make some self-deprecating joke and disappear for a good long while.  
If Klaus thinks he's offering in order to make him get his shit together and stay clean, he will refuse and tell Diego to go fuck himself, and go overdose in a dumpster somewhere just out of spite.  
If Klaus thinks he's offering because of his hero complex, he'll refuse and make fun of him with increasingly pointed jokes until one hits a soft spot, and Diego will get angry and change his mind, tell him to fuck off.  
He remembers exactly how each scenario plays out.  
The only tactic that might work is getting Klaus to understand and believe that he's offering out of love, because the only thing all seven of them have ever had in common is that love disarms them and they don't know how to refuse it. It's very hard to learn to refuse something you were never really offered, after all.  
Problem is, Diego is as skilled at expressing love as he is at cross-stitch: not even a little, and any attempt so far has ended in failure.

Klaus has already retreated in his shell, which makes things harder for him. It came very easy to be gentle and loving and delicate when Klaus first woke up, his battered body shuddering with harsh sobs, his fragility neither hidden nor flaunted, just there.  
But after he cried himself out, Klaus went right back to his usual blend of despondent, combative and charming, deflecting any of Diego's half-cocked attempts to have a real conversation with slightly insulting jokes.  
He's had to fight his instinct to answer insulting jokes with insulting jokes, or he knows they would have fallen right back into their childhood pattern of increasingly biting banter, and followed it to its usual conclusion where they go their separate ways knowing they will run into each other soon enough and hang out for a while until they start annoying each other, again.   
He knows Klaus has noticed.

Klaus almost skips out of his room, looking healthier and more lucid than he's seen him in years. Diego knows he's still feeling at least some measure of pain, but he guesses the prospect of getting high is bolstering his step. He almost feels guilty, he's about to burst his bubble - unless Klaus wins, and it's Diego's bubble that bursts.  
He thinks the only way he's going to come out on top is with a preemptive strike; he can't let Klaus gain any ground.  
Klaus says his goodbyes, as usual half the nurses can't wait to be rid of him and the others are wrapped around his little finger, and lights a cigarette as soon as they're out of the door.   
He hears him say under his breath "would you just shut up for once, they're my lungs," so it seems like Diego would probably get along swimmingly with whoever's ghost is haunting his brother right now.  
He can see Klaus is gearing up to some bullshit about previous committments or important business, and is about to flitter out of his life for who knows how long.   
It's time to strike, before Klaus can even start.   
He grabs him by the wrist - gently, he doesn't even have to remind himself to be gentle - and guides him to sit on the bench next to the car park.   
Klaus splutters a little, but follows without much protest - a good sign, for sure.   
He's going to try be honest, and hopes Klaus will repay him in kind.  
His brother's eyes look amused but soft, his shield is not all the way up. Promising.

He tries.  
He fails.  
The first words out of his mouth are "how did you survive?", and somehow they sound accusatory.  
Klaus's eyes shutter, he giggles airily and answers "I'm just too pretty to die, Diego, but I can see why you wouldn't understand that." He winks, stands up.   
Diego wants to tell him that he loves him, that he had never been as scared as when he couldn't find him, that visions of his broken body now share the starring role in all his recurring nightmares with the memories of Ben's body.  
He tries again, starts again, the words still don't come out right. He's never been good at making his words come out.  
"Klaus, seriously, all his other victims died within hours, how in the hell were you still alive when I got there?".  
Klaus laughs again, he sounds tired and a little hysterical now. "Thank you for saving me, Diego, I will see you around. I have places to be, people to meet, you know how it is. Dicks won't suck themselves, after all." He strangely sounds a little drunk, even though Diego is sure he hasn't had any alcohol in almost a month.  
He walks away. 

Velar, labial and lateral consonants have always been the ones Diego struggled with the most, especially when starting a sentence or a word.   
It figures that his brother's name would start with a cluster of velar and lateral consonants, making it almost impossible to articulate now that his blood is rushing to his head and his heart is pounding.   
It figures that his brother's name would start with a voiceless velar stop, so no sound comes out of his mouth at all until he can make his mouth reach that blessed A, and let his vocal cords join the party.  
He is stuck on that K, he silently chokes on it.

Mom made him a cross-stitch of a hummingbird once, and he loved it so much he kept touching it, playing with it, tracing the stitches with his fingers.   
And then his clumsy fingers, much more used to grasping the handle of a knife than touching anything fragile, pulled one of the stitches, and instead of asking mom to teach him how to fix it he kept pulling on the loose thread until the hummingbird unravelled.


	4. 4. Klaus

Klaus just wants to act like nothing happened, he doesn't think it's too much to ask.  
The twin looks of concern that Ben and Diego keep giving him are starting to make him feel claustrophobic.   
He knows he's going to have to stay in the hospital for quite some time still, some of the wounds were so infected by his own excretions that the doctors told him he almost went into septic shock when they first brought him in, and wouldn't that have been a fucking laugh.   
Cause of death: his own shit. Fitting.  
Not that it would have lasted.  
  
At first he contemplated quickly killing himself again, because the worst of the damage seems to fix itself every time he comes back to life, but Ben figured it out somehow and fixed such devastated eyes on him that he felt paralyzed.   
He also wasn't sure how he would do it - he can't even get to the toilet by himself yet - maybe at night he could have slammed his head against the wall until his brain splattered out, but that would have left a mess he wouldn't have known how to explain.   
Maybe he could have bitten his own tongue off like in that movie about the boxer lady that he half watched once, when it was so cold out that he listened to Ben and huddled in a dark, climate controlled movie theater for a few hours, until the attendants kicked him out. But he didn't want Diego to walk in before he could clean himself up, and find him covered in blood again.  
Maybe he could have just held his breath until he asfixiated. He's not confident he'd have the willpower not to inhale when it started to hurt, though.  
But he likes to pretend he is a decent person, sometimes, so he decides that he didn't do it because Ben would have been crushed, and not because he's not sure how he would have done it.  
He doesn't get what the big deal is, it's clearly not going to stick; he thinks he's earned the right to use this shit new power to his own advantage.  
He's been murdered so many times at this point that he feels he's entitled to murder himself on his own terms at least once, thank you very much. 

He doesn't say any of that to Ben, though, because Ben still thinks life is a wonderful gift that should never be wasted. If Klaus had died, permanently, as a teenager, he might feel the same way.  
So he sticks it out, and for once in his life decides not to be selfish.   
Well, it's still a little selfish: he has no idea how he would explain to Diego or the doctors that his wounds have miraculously healed, and he has no intention of ever telling anyone the truth.  
Plus, he's hooked on some good morphine, compliments of the chef, or whatever the hospital equivalent of a chef is, so he can't complain too much.   
He's got free food, free lodging and free opiates: the American dream.  
Ok, not exactly free, but as free as things ever get for him without larceny being involved: Allison is footing the bill.  
He's not sure what Diego has told her, he might not have told her anything; she's always been too close to Luther for Diego to consider her an ally, but maybe they've both grown up enough to be able to have a civil conversation.   
He doubts it though, because she has just sent a generic "get well soon" flower arrangement and, as insecure as he can be about his place in his siblings' affections, he still thinks she would have at least sent a "sorry you got tortured!" giant teddy bear if she knew how bad it got. He suspects Diego just left her a grumpy voicemail telling her Klaus was in the hospital and letting her know she would receive his bills.  
Which brings his thoughts back to Diego.  
He's been visiting every single day, staying until they kick him out, and while at first he welcomed the company and felt genuinely touched, Diego is still treating him with a gentleness that makes him feel unpleasantly fragile.   
He doesn't want a reminder of how easily he can be shattered, he just wants to glue the shards of him back together and go back to being a semi-functional tumbler that someone could fill with whiskey. He misses booze, incidentally.  
He's been trying to get back to their normal dynamic, and he knows he's been getting a little cruel at this point in his attempts to get a reaction out of Diego, if only because Ben has been reprimanding him more and more often.   
He just can't take the big, soft Bambi eyes anymore, and the clumsy attempts at psychoanalysis.  
Klaus has broken many a licensed psychiatrist in his many go-rounds at rehab, Diego is not going to get shit out of him. He's not going to talk about the warehouse, and Diego can't make him.  
Ben can't make him talk about it either, and he's very vocally displeased about it - it's like Ben wants to make up for his prolonged silence back there, he never seems to shut up these days.

Ben is, as usual, the bane of his existence.  
No, that's too mean.  
Ben is the most annoying of his brothers, and that is saying a lot.  
He knows Ben loves him, he also knows Ben resents him; he can understand both, but he doesn't think Ben knows that Klaus resents him right back.   
He also loves him right back, but he's pretty sure Ben does know that.  
Sometimes he just thinks that his life would be so much easier, and so much happier, if he didn't have a constant spectator judging his whole personhood and always finding it wanting.   
He will never tell Ben though, because it's his own fault Ben's stuck watching the perverse carousel of self destruction that is his life. He was too selfish to say goodbye and let Ben go, so he fucked him over; what else is new.  
Anyways, Ben is a nag, and doesn't want to accept that Klaus's life is his own to waste, if he so wishes.   
The newest thing Ben has been nagging him about is what is going to happen once he's released from the hospital.  
As far as Klaus is concerned, nothing's going to happen: everything will go back to the way it was. He will be more careful, until he's too high to remember to be careful.   
If he's being completely honest about how he feels, which he rarely is, the thought of hooking again makes his heart beat a little uncomfortably fast, and thinking about getting into a stranger's car makes him feel a bit sick. But what else can he do? Once he has some uppers in his system he will get over it and be fine.  
According to Ben, there is something else he can do: stay at Diego's.   
Diego hasn't offered though, and Klaus is not going to ask. 

Ben keeps telling him that he needs to deal with the trauma, but he doesn't know what he's talking about.   
He is dealing with the trauma, thank you Ben, the morphine is a godsend, and once he can get his hands on some blow, or some molly, he will deal even better - ha, deal.  
So what if some nights - all nights - he wakes up gasping for breath, back in the warehouse, convinced that he's dying, and the thing he is most afraid of is that he will come back again.  
As soon as he can, he'll get black-out drunk, and he will sleep through the night when he passes out behind a dumpster.  
Ben keeps telling him he should talk to someone about what happened, at least to Diego if he doesn't want to explain to a therapist that he's someone something like not being able to stay dead could happen to.  
Ben doesn't get that he can't talk about what happened, his mind skips on all the details like a flat rock on the surface of a still lake. Maybe for the first time in his life his brain is actually helping him out, blocking out the gruesome and the horror and the fear, making everything feel like a hazy fevered dream. Thank you brain, maybe you're not that useless after all.  
Or maybe it's the morphine.

They take the morphine away from him.

They say it's because he doesn't need it anymore, they're going to switch him to a milder painkiller because they're going to release him soon.  
But Klaus knows it's Diego's fault, he must have told them he's an addict so now they don't believe him anymore when he complains about the pain, and cries that he needs something stronger.   
They're right, of course, the pain is manageable without the morphine, it's everything else that isn't.   
Ben looks at him like the words "I told you so" are on the very tip of his tongue, but he must still feel guilty about how many times he said the same words in the warehouse before he realized how bad it truly was, because he doesn't say them now.  
He always knew his traitorous brain was just a malignant tumor that would end up killing him, nothing is hazy anymore.   
It's not a fevered dream, it's a vivid, unending snuff movie that plays behind his eyelids every time he blinks.   
He can't wait to get out, he's going to get fucked and then fucked up until the jiggly stuff that fills his skull stops working completely.   
He doesn't even care anymore if he gets another john who is secretly a monster, he needs money, he needs good drugs.  
He's terrified he's going to get another john who is secretly a monster.   
He doesn't give a shit if he dies, and he's so scared he's going to get murdered again. He doesn't want to die ever again.  
He's being torn in half again, dilator spreading his chest open so his torturer can see up close the moment his heart stops beating and the moment it starts beating again, only his torturer is his own self and that's even harder to process.  
He's stuck like this. As long as he's lucid, he's stuck like this.   
His own head is the warehouse now.

He wishes at least Diego would play along, volley his quips back to him, make him feel like a living human person for a few minutes, but Diego still holds back, still treats him like he's covered in open wounds and he doesn't want to hurt him.  
He swings so hard and so quick from apathy to anger to devastation to optimism, most of the time he's not even sure what he's feeling anymore.   
He can't wait to get out and get high and get normal.  
Ben looks at him like his heart is breaking, but also like he thinks he would do so much better if he was in Klaus's position.   
Klaus would like to see him try.   
No he wouldn't. Ben would be as broken as him, and Klaus wouldn't wish this breakage on anyone.  
Or Ben really would do better than him, and heal, and be a person again, and it would be even worse. 

They're letting him out, today.  
Klaus feels like he'll bubble out of his skin, he's so excited.  
Klaus feels like he'll shrivel into a knot of bones and hair, he's so terrified.  
If Diego asks him to stay with him, he'll laugh and say no. No he won't, he'll jump at the chance and maybe cry a little.  
He doesn't know what he will do if Diego offers him a place to stay.

Diego doesn't offer.

He's about to suck his first dick in over a month - just like riding a bike, just like riding a bike, which he actually doesn't know how to do - when his insides twist like Ben's used to.  
Sorry, Ben, that's insensitive.  
He throws up all over his john's junk.   
Well, that's 20 bucks down the drain.  
He shakes like a leaf, curls up as tiny as he can make himself, which is pretty fucking tiny, he's got the heroin chic look down to a tee, and lets himself lose his mind for a minute.   
He can't stay out on the streets tonight or he will die, he's sure of it, his heart will stop by itself. He doesn't want to die, he really really doesn't.  
He can't go to Diego's, who seemed to be inordinately curious about the warehouse. He can't have Diego asking him about the warehouse, in the state he is now he might tell him.  
He can't go to a shelter, not as sober as he is now, too many people go back to the shelters after they die on the streets.  
He can't stay out.

There's one person Diego won't speak with, won't call, won't even consider might be able to help, and Ben knows her address.

Vanya opens her door, rushes him to her couch, makes him a cup of tea and drapes a blanket around his shoulders.   
She's so used to her siblings ignoring her questions that she doesn't ask any.  
In the morning, he will leave, he thinks.  
In the morning, he might stay.  
He sleeps through the night.


	5. 5. Allison

Wednesday has always been Allison's favorite day of the week, and she knows it's really silly to have a favorite day of the week as an adult.  
But her wedding was on a Wednesday, and Claire was born on a Wednesday too; the wedding she planned, Claire was just a happy coincidence.  
Her love for Wednesdays was born long before Claire, though, and goes all the way back to the week after she turned eight.   
  
Dad decided to give them a birthday gift, maybe because their training was going well, maybe Pogo had suggested it, she never understood Dad: he got a TV, and they would get to watch it for 30 minutes each week, on Wednesday evening.   
Number One had the right to choose the show for the first week, because they were following the normal order, but he gave his choice to her instead, and Number Three chose the only show with a title that sounded like something she would like - a show called "Sister, Sister".  
It was perfect.  
It was about two girls, who were twins, and were adopted, and even more importantly, looked like her. Until that moment, it was just as common in her world to be a talking ape as it was to be a little girl with brown skin and tight, textured curls, yet here were two other girls with brown skin and textured hair, and they were on TV.  
She decided three things on that Wednesday: she would be on television too, one day, so no other little girls would think that looking like her is as weird as being a talking ape; there would be some rumors flying around in the next week to ensure that "Sister, Sister" would be all of her siblings' choice; and having a sister was the best.   
She and Number Seven would be best friends, have secret sleepovers in each other's rooms, share clothes, talk about boys, develop their own secret language.  
They were basically twins, after all.  
They lost the TV just six days later, when Dad caught Number Four and Number Five trying to sneak into one of the Rooms They Are Not Supposed To Go In.   
She never got to see a second episode.  
She refused to speak to Four or Five for a full month.

Her dream sisterhood with Number Seven was as short-lived as the TV; Seven was so quiet, and timid, and withdrawn that Number Three started to feel like all her attempts to make conversation were only inconveniencing and annoying her.  
Number Seven seemed much more interested in her books, and much happier when left alone; she was never the one to approach Three first, and didn't show any active interest in spending time together.  
Allison would be devastated to realize, over two decades later, that Vanya had been so thoroughly convinced of her own insignificance - and by Allison herself, to add insult to injury - that she would have never felt comfortable enough to approach her first, or worthy of taking up her time.

When they turned twelve and they were not numbers anymore, Allison started to fantasize again about being closer to her sister.   
She was confused and frightened by the fluttering in her stomach when she looked at Luther, and needed desperately to talk about it with someone who wasn't Luther, didn't dislike her like Diego, didn't think she was beneath him like Five, and didn't have a literal monster fluttering in his stomach like Ben.  
Her options were then just Vanya or Klaus.   
She tried Vanya first, again, because she still pictured the two of them giggling and painting each other's nails, facing all the strange changes happening to their bodies together. It was "Sister, Sister", after all, not "Sister, Brother".  
Vanya was as kind as usual, but also as quiet and seemingly uninterested.  
Klaus, on the other hand, reacted like he was just as starved for that kind of connection as she was.  
In honor of "Sister, Sister", she decided they would meet up every Wednesday after training - neither of them quite brave enough to meet after curfew yet. 

She still thinks Klaus probably has the healthiest relationship with his own gender identity and sexuality, and it's the only thing he's ever been healthy about; he already knew himself back then, but for Allison things were much more black and white at the time.   
She liked hanging out with Klaus because he was open about his feminine side, and he would talk about boys with her; it was not like it would have been with her sister, but it was as close as she could get.  
She felt crushed and betrayed when Klaus admitted to liking girls as well, and wouldn't let him back into her room the next Wednesday until he promised that while he liked girls, he did prefer boys.   
To this day, she wishes she had apologized for that, but by the time she had grown up enough to understand sexuality Klaus had already become too hard to reach.

When they were fourteen, and there were only six of them left, she started feeling heat between her legs every time Luther brushed his hand on her arm; the only person she could talk about it with was Klaus.   
He had already started sneaking out of the house at night, and he took her with him one night, to a diner where the local high school students used to hang. He said it would take her mind off its incestuous impulses, and it did.  
She met a boy there, who became her first crush that didn't bring with it feelings of wrongness and illicitness.  
When she had her first kiss, Klaus was the only person she told, and he told her about his latest kiss - he said he didn't remember his first.  
At sixteen, after two years of sporadic clandestine dates with the boy from the diner, she was ready to have sex, and she went to Klaus for advice. He said he didn't remember his first time, and that should have been the reddest flag, but he did remember the last, and a few in between, and he told her what it felt like to have someone else inside your body.   
He was her closest confidant, her guide to discovering adult fun: he would smoke pot sometimes, and sometimes he would share it with her.   
She had her first sip of alcohol with him, and didn't pay enough attention to how much he would chug down while she slowly savoured her single glass.

When they were seventeen, there were only five of them left.

Wednesday meetings started becoming terrifying.   
The stories Klaus would tell her were not salacious and intriguing anymore, they were just degrading and scary; Allison's contributions dwindled to a constant, recurring question: "didn't that hurt?".  
She didn't like hanging out with him anymore, it was depressing and frightening. She didn't want to hear his advice on anything, she wouldn't want to do anything he was doing.   
Klaus was barely coherent enough to even finish his horrific stories, let alone listen to her sensible and innocent ones. He had become so focused on destroying himself that he had no time or energy left to listen to her, to love her.   
He was killing himself slowly in front of her eyes, and it hurt too much to witness for long.

When they were eighteen, Allison left.

Losing Five was like losing the TV after only one episode of "Sister, Sister": the same feeling of something unfinished, unsaid, unresolved.  
Losing Ben was like the end of her childhood: everything after Ben's death became dark, and scary, and real.  
Leaving Klaus behind was like amputating a gangrenous limb: horribly painful, but if she hadn't done it it would have destroyed her.

She hasn't had a real conversation with any of her siblings in years, now.   
She's happy with her life, and how could she not be: her husband is kind, and when he isn't she hears rumors that he is.  
Her daughter is perfect, and when she isn't she hears rumors that she is.  
Her career is booming, and when it isn't she hears rumors that it is.  
Sure, sometimes she looks at herself in the mirror, thinks about maybe cutting down on the rumors at least a little, and sees the same look in her eyes that Klaus would have in his when he would swear up and down "I can stop whenever I want".   
But it's not the same, it's not the same at all.   
She's not really hurting anyone, she's not lying to her siblings and stealing their money, she won't kill herself by overdosing on rumors.   
None of her brothers - and Vanya, she keeps forgetting Vanya - will ever get about her any of the phone calls they've all gotten about Klaus.   
She's just making things easier for herself, and who wouldn't in her position. She is black and she is a woman, her rumors just even the playing field.

Funnily enough, the brother she has the most frequent contact with is the one she got along with the least back when they all lived together; too similar to get along but too different to like each other, as much as she loves Diego she's never been friends with him.   
She hears from him twice a year, though, a quick little rundown of what everyone's doing.   
Diego's keeping tabs on everyone, because of course he is, and he knows Allison wants to keep tabs too, because of course she does. Too similar to get along.  
It's through Diego that she finds out Dad shipped Luther to the Moon, and her heart twists painfully when she imagines him alone, millions of miles away, untethered. Nobody to show him they love him.  
Through Diego, she finds out that after her novel Vanya is living herself a nice, quiet little life, playing her violin and teaching it to kids, and she can't think about anything else that would suit her nice, quiet little sister better.  
Through Diego, she bankrolls Klaus's numerous rounds of rehab, every time knowing it won't work but hoping it will, disappointed every time that the previous attempt didn't take. Sometimes she pays his hospital bills, if he's been admitted after an overdose.  
She never finds out about Diego himself, he never tells her anything about his own life, while she regales him with tales of LA, and Patrick, and Claire. Too different to like each other.  
She misses one of his calls, this year, because Claire has chickenpox and apparently itches don't care about rumors, so she has to look after her constantly to stop her from scratching herself bloody.   
Diego leaves a voicemail, and it's the usual: Luther is still on the Moon, Vanya is still playing the violin, Klaus is in the hospital again, I assume you'll pick up the bill.   
Of course she will, she always does.   
Claire's finally asleep, Patrick makes love to her on the sofa like they're teenagers and they go to bed.   
She's happy with her life.

A month later, she gets the hospital bills, and the list of procedures she will pay for makes her heart drop to the bottom of her feet.   
She calls Diego a dozen times, furious, and leaves a dozen messages with an increasingly annoyed man - they all boil down to the same question, over and over: what the fuck happened, Diego.   
What happened.  
Diego never calls her back.

She visits the producer of her new movie and hears a rumor that the shooting schedule has been delayed by two weeks; Patrick is fine with looking after Claire on his own for a while, and when he wasn't she heard a rumor that he was.  
She buys a plane ticket and a hotel room, and she flies home, for the first time in ten years.

The thing about an amputated limb is that sometimes you feel phantom pains in it.


	6. 6. Vanya

7:00: wake up  
7:01: pee  
7:05: shower  
7:18: put a pot of coffee on  
7:20: brush and dry your hair  
7:27: have your coffee and a slice of toast  
7:34: wash your coffee mug  
7:37: brush your teeth  
7:40: check that you have all the sheet music in your bag  
7:41: make sure you have a few extra pencils in your violin case, so if anyone needs one you are prepared  
7:42: put on your coat and shoes  
7:43: get out the door and lock it, check again that you have all the sheet music in your bag  
7:45: get to the bus stop with 10 minutes to spare on the scheduled bus departure time, just in case the bus is early  
7:50: check again that you have all the sheet music in your bag, you're still in time to run home and grab it if you have forgotten some of it  
7:59: the bus is late, start to worry  
8:04: the bus is very late, start to panic  
8:07: get on the bus  
8:34: get off the bus, you are 26 minutes early  
8:35: check one last time that you have all the sheet music in your bag, if you take a cab you can still make it home and back in time  
8:37: go to the bathroom   
8:41: inhale, count to four. Hold, count to four. Exhale, count to four. Hold, count to four. Repeat at least five times, more if need be  
8:45: take your meds  
8:50: feel proud to have successfully fended off an anxiety attack  
8:51: go to the rehearsal room  
8:53: get your sheet music and your pencil on the stand ready to take notes  
8:54: start tuning your violin  
8:56: offer a pencil to Linda the violist, who is rummaging through her bag and never finds one  
8:57: keep tuning your violin  
8:59: offer a pencil to Phillip the oboist, who is too busy chatting with Amy the flutist to thank you  
9:00: finish tuning your violin  
9:03: rehearsal starts  
11:00: while everyone else is taking a break for a coffee or a smoke, go over all the annotations you made so far  
11:15: rehearsal starts again  
13:00: put away the violin, the sheet music and the pencil  
13:01: put away the pencil Linda gives you back  
13:02: decide it's not worth bothering Phillip to get your pencil back, he's already on his way out and you can just buy some new ones  
13:05: say goodbye and leave before you can notice how many people ignored your goodbye  
13:08: decide you'll have lunch at the café a block away  
13:13: order a coffee and ask for a few minutes more to choose what to eat  
13:15: debate between the bagel with smoked salmon and cream cheese and the greek salad with shrimp and feta cheese  
13:20: order your usual grilled chicken sandwich with a side of green salad  
13:21: read a few pages of the book you started yesterday afternoon  
13:26: eat your sandwich and salad  
13:47: pay  
13:48: double check that you have not forgotten the tip before leaving the café  
13:49: leave the café and make your way to the bus stop  
13:52: read a little more of your book while you wait  
14:00: get on the bus  
14:12: stuck in traffic  
14:28: still stuck in traffic  
14:53: get off the bus  
14:56: arrive home, take off your coat and shoes  
14:58: realize you forgot to stop by the stationary store and buy more pencils  
14:59: inhale, count to four. Hold, count to four. Exhale, count to four. Hold, count to four. Repeat at least five times, more if need be.  
15:01: take your meds  
15:05: you still have four pencils left, you can buy more tomorrow  
15:07: brush your teeth  
15:10: practice your Mahler until your fingertips hurt  
15:37: quick pee break  
15:40: resume your practice  
16:30: Amanda should be here for her lesson  
16:35: Amanda is late  
16:37: get a little annoyed  
16:42: Amanda arrives  
16:45: apologize to Amanda for being short with her, you were a little annoyed because she was late  
16:47: start your lesson  
16:54: ask Amanda to concentrate  
17:05: ask Amanda to concentrate again  
17:12: ask Amanda what's going on  
17:13: she has a crush on Emma who is in her Spanish class and Emma asked her to go shopping together tomorrow, she's so excited but what if she just wants to be friends of course she would like to be her friend but she also really likes her and what if she misunderstands and thinks Emma is sending her signals and she tries to make a move and Emma only wanted to be friends that would be so embarrassing she would never be able to show her face at school again  
17:16: offer Amanda a cup of tea, because you don't have any advice to offer instead. You never had classmates that weren't your siblings and never went shopping with someone you had a crush on  
17:31: try to teach Amanda at least a little   
18:22: give Amanda some exercises to do before next week's lesson  
18:30: wish Amanda good luck on her shopping date tomorrow, close the door  
18:38: no, you have not seen Mr. Puddles  
18:40: curl up on the couch and read some more of your book  
20:00: start thinking about what to have for dinner  
20:06: you think you're feeling adventurous, you might try and replicate one of mom's recipes  
20:12: you think risotto with wild mushrooms would not be too hard to make  
20:14: you don't have any mushrooms  
20:16: decide to try and make risotto with peas instead  
20:47: risotto is really hard to make  
20:55: order take-out from that Polish place you like  
21:03: clean up the mess of rice glue stuck to your pot  
21:18: go downstairs to grab your food from the delivery man  
21:19: go back upstairs because you forgot the tip  
21:20: go back downstairs and grab your food from the delivery man. Tip him  
21:24: eat your pierogi and golabki  
21:50: read some more, it's a good book  
22:45: almost time to start getting ready for bed  
22:48: pee, brush your teeth and get in your pajamas  
22:54: take your meds so you can fall asleep quickly and get your recommended eight hours  
22:55: go to bed and turn off the bedside lamp  
23:00: fall asleep

Nothing out of the ordinary. 

00:56: someone bangs on your door  
00:58: NO, YOU HAVE NOT SEEN MR. PUDDLES  
1:00: someone keeps banging on your door  
1:02: get a little annoyed  
1:04: drag yourself out of bed  
1:05: open the door  
1:05: it's your brother Klaus, looking pale and thin, shivering like he has a fever

1:05: Get him inside, quickly, he's freezing, get him something hot to drink and a soft blanket to nestle in. He can stay on your couch, he can stay as long as he needs, does he want anything, food, maybe? You don't have much but he can have whatever you have in your fridge.  
You don't like this, you don't know what this is.   
There's something bubbling in your chest and it feels uncomfortable, too big for your body to handle.  
Any time you feel something that seems too big for you, take your medication, Number Seven: what you're feeling is anxiety, and the medication will help you.  
Go to your room and take your meds.   
That's the fourth time today, it's been a long time since you had to take them more than three times in a day.  
Go back to your living room; Klaus has fallen asleep in the few minutes you were in the bedroom, he looks very young and old beyond your age at the same time.  
Tuck him into the blanket, his skin still feels cold to the touch, so grab another one and wrap him in that one as well.  
Sit on the coffee table and watch him sleep for a little while, until you can feel the meds kicking in and everything goes soft and fuzzy again.  
Go back to bed, the meds will help you fall asleep quickly and you can still get at least five hours.  
1:59: fall back asleep

7:00: wake up  
7:01: pee  
7:03: remember what happened last night  
7:04: rush into the living room to check if your brother is still there  
7:04: your brother is still there  
7:04: you were too noisy and now he's awake

?:??: would he like you to make him some breakfast? He looks like he could use something more substantial than toast, you have eggs, if he wants?  
?:??: you don't know how to make waffles, but maybe you can go out and have breakfast together somewhere?  
?:??: you will pay for him, if that's what he's worried about?  
?:??: go out and have breakfast with your brother you haven't seen in ten years - you haven't taken your meds yet, should you take them now or wait for later when you might need them?  
?:??: order some French toast and order Klaus his waffles, he looks like he's not fully there, maybe he's high?   
?:??: should you ask him what's going on?   
?:??: eat your breakfast, watch Klaus pick at his, why does he look so shattered, it's not _his_ day that just went completely off the rails?  
?:??: finish your breakfast and pay for both of you, would Klaus like to walk home with you?  
?:??: would Klaus please come back inside, would he please stay for a while? You don't know what happened and he doesn't have to tell you if he doesn't want to, the only brothers who ever confided in you are dead or vanished so you are used to not being anyone's closest friend. If he would just stay for a while though you would feel better, you don't think he needs your charity at all, he'd be doing you a favor really because you've been feeling a little lonely lately?  
?:??: he comes inside with you, can he promise he will be there when you come back from rehearsal?  
?:??: ok, can he at least try to stay, and only leave if he absolutely has to?   
?:??: you won't be disappointed if he's left, but you will be happy if he's still there, how does that sound?  
?:??: leave, and don't lock the door behind you because he might feel trapped and you remember vaguely how that feels

9:18: get off the bus, you're late for rehearsal  
9:19: feel sick with worry for Klaus, who hasn't made a silly joke once the whole morning and looks so frail, like he's close to death  
9:20: feel sick with anxiety for being late, you have never been late, Linda and Phillip will feel let down that you didn't give them their pencils in time  
9:21: take your meds  
9:25: the edges of the world soften around you  
9:26: you're fine.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I don't know what this is. I wanted to write Vanya on her meds, and this is what came out.


	7. 7. Ben

Being dead is mind-numbingly boring, and Ben can't stand it.  
He thought that being tethered to Klaus would at least keep things interesting, but there's only so many wild parties and raves and orgies you can find titillating before they all blend together in a shapeless mess of sweaty, intoxicated human flesh, and in all honesty Ben was never really all that interested in parties and raves and orgies to begin with.  
There are so many things Ben wishes he could do, see, touch, read, taste, smell, and Klaus isn't interested in any of them.

Being dead is an exercise in frustration, and Ben hates it.  
Sometimes he hates Klaus too.  
Not enough to want to leave, never that much, the siren call of life is still too strong for him to be able to resist it and he has no wax to put in his ears and no crew to tie him to the mast of his ship like Ulysses.  
He half-lives this non-life and has no say over where he goes or what he sees.  
Sometimes Klaus gets so fucked up that Ben becomes a faint impression of himself, and the only thing he thinks he could liken it to is sleepwalking: he regains consciousness and he's some place unfamiliar, with no memory of getting there.   
Other times, Klaus is just a little drunk, or stoned, and Ben feels clear and vivid to the point he forgets that he's not actually tangible and reaches out to grab something living.  
The rules of death are strange, he's never really sure when he'll be able to touch the world and when his body will pass through it, and he only ever seems to be able to touch inanimate objects - or maybe it's not death to have strange rules, maybe it's just Klaus.   
He wouldn't be surprised to find out Klaus randomly takes away his ability to hold a book on purpose just when he's getting to the good part because Ben pissed him off, or just because he's bored and he thinks it's funny to see Ben's hands all of a sudden grasp at the air. Except that seems too deliberate and purposeful for his brother, who seems to live his life ruled by instant gratification alone.

Klaus has big eyes, that can turn teary and distraught on a dime, and a kind-looking face; in his night-time ruminations, when he has nothing to do but watch his brother sleep and wait for him to wake up, Ben decides that it's the slope of his nose that makes him look innocent and sweet, like he wouldn't hurt a fly and he's in need of protection.   
But Klaus can be vicious like a feral trash raccoon, especially when coming down from a high, and has an innate talent for knowing exactly where to hit you and cause the most damage.   
Ben hates the reminders that he's dead, he doesn't need them, it's not something he can forget; Klaus knows it, and will use Ben's absolute ineffectiveness as a way to shut him up.   
Ben hates his brother the most every time he's reminded that there's nothing he can do, he's here by the grace of Klaus and he doesn't get a choice, a voice, a vote; he's just along for the ride, and it's a rickety ride that's always just on the verge of crashing.  
He had to learn to get just as mean, to identify and attack Klaus's softest tissue, because he's not Diego and bringing a knife to a gunfight will not do him any good. He's learned to bite where it hurts Klaus the most, and he's honest about himself enough to admit that he doesn't hate hurting his brother as much as a nicer person would - it's the only modicum of power he has left, after all, the only thing in the world he can still affect.   
He's learned the magic words to sting Klaus are narcissism and selfishness, because Klaus is never honest about himself and can't stand when the people who know him best are; if he feels he needs to be really cruel, then uselessness, weakness and disappointment come into play, but he doesn't like echoing Dad so he tries to use them sparingly.

Most of the time, being dead is a mind-numbingly boring exercise in frustration, and Ben hates it.   
Some of the time, his brother is needlessly cruel and self-serving, and Ben hates him.

There are some moments though, some rare but invaluable moments, when he has so much fun, and Klaus makes him laugh so hard that he would throw up if he still had a stomach.

Once, when Ben was still, always seventeen and Klaus was twenty-three, Klaus was already an old pro at being homeless.  
He had a favorite alley to sleep in, when he couldn't find anyone who would let him stay in their bed after fucking him, and on that specific day Ben thought that having a favorite alley was extraordinarily depressing.   
He spent most of the morning complaining about it, and telling Klaus he should really find a less desolate place to sleep, because the misery of it all was starting to get to him; the fact that Klaus didn't see anything sad about being so used to homelessness that a nook between two dumpsters had become homey and inviting made him even more miserable.  
Klaus acted like he couldn't hear him, and went about his business as usual: a little shoplifting, a little drug purchase, a little drug usage.   
Ben always stayed far away from him whenever he did something illegal, out of the shop if he was stealing, out of the alley if he was buying or using, the words "plausible deniability" playing on a loop in his head despite the impossibility of being held as a witness or accomplice.  
He never had any idea what Klaus was stealing, but he always hoped it would be food, or warm socks, or possibly condoms - most of the time he'd find out it was booze, and not be surprised.  
When they got back to the alley that day, Ben's spirits as down as they had ever been, Klaus muttered "you might want to avert your law-abiding eyes, Benny-boy," and, disgusted with him, Ben took as much of a stroll as his tether to Klaus would allow.  
He came back about an hour later, to a scene that still makes him smile when he thinks about it.  
A plastic table cloth was laid down on the ground, the kind parents use for the kids who get birthday parties, in a clashing pattern of pastel stripes and ugly metallic unicorns, held down by a couple broken bottles in one corner and a pile of empty soda cans in the other.   
There were five incongruous Halloween-themed balloons strewn around, deflating, black and orange, painfully ugly; Klaus had clearly run out of steam before blowing them all the way up, and hadn't Ben told him time and again that he should quit smoking, his lung capacity was shit.   
The pièce de resistance was the "It's a boy!" banner draped artlessly from one dumpster to the next, hanging crooked over Klaus's head, to which Klaus had added "Is it really, though?" with a black Sharpie, in his lopsided and graceless handwriting.  
Klaus looked at him, eyes glinting.   
"There, festive, no? A couple balloons can turn any gathering into an occasion!", as proud as a child showing off his macaroni art - not that they were ever allowed to indulge in such fruitless pursuits as children.  
Laughter had bubbled out of Ben's belly, kinder than anything that had ever come out of it before, and they spent the night laying side by side on the tablecloth, naming all the ugly unicorns things like "Scourge", and "Warhead", and "Satan's Whistle", making up doomed love stories and epic battles between the gold and the silver ones.  
It still is the warmest he ever felt since he died.

Ben loves Klaus like he loves the rest of his siblings, like he loves life itself.

Ben loves Klaus even when he hates him.

He should be worried now that he sees him huddled up on Vanya's couch, staring at nothing, not a trace of good humor left in him. He should be worried sick, he knows Vanya is, he could see Diego was, but he's just relieved.   
Maybe that makes him a horrible person, but Klaus has been cracked down the middle for so long that, maybe, now that he's breaking completely Ben will be able to fix him after, to push the pieces back together and hold them there, and maybe at the end he'll have a brother who is whole.  
Maybe he'll even be able to shape Klaus's fragments into an image that resembles Ben a little closer, and the shadow of a life he's been stuck in for over a decade will become juicier, tastier, more filling - he knows that's selfish, but Klaus got to be selfish for the past ten years, it's only fair that Ben gets a turn.  
Maybe he'll have to make sure Klaus does break completely, and while he doesn't look forward to doing it he knows he could do it, if pressed, because he knows where to hit and make it hurt - he had to learn, after all, Klaus himself taught him. 

If only he could hug him, he knows that would be a start: the pressure of being loved would deepen all the splintering cracks, and maybe start sealing them at the same time - Klaus's main language of love has always been physical touch, and of course that's the only language Ben cannot possibly be fluent in.  
He could have sworn that when Klaus first woke up in the hospital and his instinctive need to comfort overrode his fear of being reminded, again, that he doesn't get to touch, he could have sworn that he felt the texture of human hair between his fingers, and it felt at once softer and coarser than he remembered.   
He petted Klaus's hair and scritched his scalp, and he could have sworn he didn't imagine it.  
He desperately wants to try again, but he's so terrified it won't work, and his arms will phase through Klaus's shoulders, and he'll be dead dead dead forever dead forever unable to touch anyone forever unable to love anyone forever dead. 

Why does it always have to be him, why does he have to be the brave one, the one who risks everything, the one who tears himself apart to save his siblings?   
He should have known the moment he figured out he had the Horror inside him, he should have accepted that he was born just to be ripped to pieces when the people he loves need his help. 

It's been a long time since he's done it, but he still remembers how to gulp down his terror, screw his eyes shut and let himself get shredded.  
So he sits on the couch next to his brother, takes a deep, unnecessary breath, and slowly wraps his arms around him.   
Ben does what Ben does best: love Klaus, even when he hates him.

Klaus sags into his arms like his strings have been cut, breath catching.

This, this is the warmest he ever felt since he died.


	8. 8. Allison (and Diego and Klaus, somewhat)

  
On the plane ride back home, Allison fantasizes over and over about what will happen when she lands.

Maybe it will go like this:

  
FADE IN

PRELAP: Knock, knock.

INT. DIEGO'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

DIEGO, wearing black track pants and a black tank top, walks to the door. He's barefoot, and his hair is all tousled and sticking up at awkward angles.

DIEGO:  
What the fuck, it's almost two in the morning, someone better be dying!

KNOCK, KNOCK. Louder.

Diego opens the door. His shoulders tense as soon as he sees who is on the other side.

DIEGO:   
Are you out of your fucking mind?

ALLISON (O.S.):   
Don't even start with me, Diego, I am not in the mood. 

ALLISON pushes her way past Diego and walks inside. She's wearing a tasteful pantsuit, her hair is perfectly coiffed and her makeup is understated but flattering. She looks perfectly put together, but she is very angry, and very tired.  
Diego closes the door and rolls his eyes. He looks angry too, he has just woken up.

DIEGO:   
So, care to explain what the fuck you're doing here?

ALLISON:   
Are you kidding me, Diego? What do you think I am doing here, you asshole?

DIEGO:   
Well, if I knew, I wouldn't ask, now would I.

ALLISON:   
I got Klaus's hospital bill, that's what the fuck I'm doing here.   
I left you more than ten messages asking what happened, but nooo, Diego doesn't have time to call his sister back, he's way too busy doing whatever the fuck he does throughout the day and can't spare a moment for his terrified sister! I had to fly here all the way from Los Angeles, Diego!

DIEGO:   
Allison, can you lower your voice...

A door opens and closes (O.S.).

KLAUS enters the room. He's wearing soft flowy black pants and a black silky robe, his hair is disheveled and he looks half asleep.

KLAUS:   
Diego, what's happening? I heard banging, are you playing with firecrackers? Without me?

Allison looks shocked; she takes a step towards Klaus, but aborts it halfway through. 

ALLISON:   
Klaus! Oh my God, are you ok?

KLAUS:   
What do you mean, why wouldn't I be?

Diego covers a half smile behind his hand and sit at the table, watching Allison and Klaus interact like he's watching a TV show.

ALLISON:   
Honestly? Way too many reasons to list them all.

Klaus seems to just now realize who he is speaking with; his eyes widen and his face brightens into a smile.

KLAUS:   
Allison Hargreeves? Is it really you? You look even more beautiful in person! But I have to say, I thought you'd be taller.

ALLISON:   
Klaus, seriously, please: I received a terrifying hospital bill with a laundry list of surgeries and medication...

KLAUS:  
Oh, don't you worry your perfectly stunning little head about it, sister dearest - by the way, I want the name of your hairstylist, that balayage is simply divine!

ALLISON:  
Life support, Klaus. One of the items was life support. Please, one of you two, talk to me, tell me what happened.

She turns back towards Diego, she's not all that angry anymore. Seeing Klaus looking healthy and alive drained her of most emotion other than relief and tiredness.

DIEGO:  
Klaus here, in his infinite wisdom, decided to have a very close encounter with a moving car.

KLAUS:  
Oh, there was no wisdom and no decision involved at all! 

ALLISON:  
You got hit by a car?

Allison sits down at the chair across from Diego. Both Allison and Diego are facing Klaus, ignoring each other. Klaus looks uncomfortable being the only one left standing, but there are no more chairs. He shrugs to himself and sits cross-legged on the floor.

KLAUS:  
I got hit by a mighty truck!

DIEGO:  
Yeah, it was a Ford Fiesta, and they were doing 25 miles an hour. If he wasn't such a stringbean he would have just got a bruise.

ALLISON:  
But you're ok now, right?

KLAUS:  
Oh, yes, I am very ok! I am better than ok, I am spectacular, can't you see?

Klaus gesticulates wildly around his face.  
Allison and Diego both scoff at the same time, look at each other sideways and then look back to Klaus.

KLAUS (cont.):  
Hey, what is with the skepticism? Look at this masterpiece, luckily not a single scratch!

Klaus winks and points to his face again.

DIEGO:  
He's fine, Allison. And he's sober.

Allison looks at Diego. Diego looks back at her. A look of understanding passes between them, Diego is being serious and honest.

KLAUS:  
Yoo-hoo? I'm still over here, and I was hit by a truck, can we stop having secret conversations with our eyes and focus back on me please?

Allison and Diego turn back to Klaus.

ALLISON:  
Wasn't it a Ford Fiesta?

KLAUS:  
Et tu, Allison? 

He throws his wrist on his forehead dramatically, and lets himself fall backwards to the ground.

DIEGO:  
Careful now, you can't afford to lose any more brain cells.

Klaus moans.

KLAUS:  
Betrayed! Betrayed by my own kin! Just leave me to die here, my corpse will only pretty up your place.

Diego looks back to Allison.

DIEGO:  
Now look what you've done, I won't be able to get him back to bed for hours.

Klaus sits up, jackknifed, eyes wide and full of excitement.

KLAUS:  
We should have a sleepover! We can even pretend it's Wednesday!

DIEGO:  
Why would we pretend...

ALLISON:  
Don't worry about it, Diego.   
It's a nice idea, Klaus, but I don't want to impose any more than I already have.

Allison motions to stand up. Diego scoffs, stands up and walks to the fridge. Allison sits back down.

DIEGO:  
Since when has Queen Allison ever worried about imposing? Come on, now, we're all awake and we're not going back to sleep for a while, we might as well have a few.

Klaus throws his hands in the air in celebration. 

KLAUS:  
Whoop whoop!

Allison looks between Diego and Klaus, and relents.

ALLISON:  
Ok, fine, but just one drink.

DIEGO:  
What's your poison?

ALLISON:  
You got whiskey?

KLAUS:  
Make that two!

DIEGO:  
Nuh-huh, you get an iced tea. I'll be nice and pour it in one of the good tumblers for you, so you can play grownup. Rocks?

ALLISON:  
Yes, please.

KLAUS:  
Neat for me, I don't want to dilute my delicious tea!

Diego pours a glass of whiskey for Allison, a glass of iced tea for Klaus and grabs a beer for himself.  
He looks at Klaus on the floor.

DIEGO:  
Well, come on then, princess, I'm not your maid and I've only got the two hands.

Diego goes back to the table with his beer and Allison's glass; he places the glass in front of Allison and sits down.  
Klaus groans and crawls to the counter, drags himself up and takes his glass of tea.   
He goes back to the table and sits back down on the floor.

KLAUS:  
Cin-cin, sib-sibs!

They all take a drink.

FADE OUT.

  
Or maybe it will go something like this:

**Scene 1**  
The interior of Diego's apartment, a modern, minimalist penthouse with large windows overlooking the park. It's decorated sparingly but tastefully, in tones of grey and black.  
A large black sofa takes up most of the stage.

_Enter Allison and Diego, stage right, mid-conversation._

Allison: I just want to know what happened, and why you didn't tell me how serious it was.

Diego: It sounds much worse than it was, Allie, I swear.

Allison: Well, I would like to see him so I can judge for myself!

_(Klaus, Vanya and Luther all pop up from behind the sofa)_

Klaus, Vanya and Luther (yelling): SURPRISE!

Diego: Sorry, Allie, it was the only way we could think of to get you here, and we needed you for the family reunion, it's just not the same without you.

Allison (confused): ...I don't understand...so it was all fake?

Luther: I was really on the Moon!

Vanya: And I really play the violin!

Klaus: But I'm totally fine, and I've stopped doing drugs and drinking alcohol!

_Enter Ben, stage left._

Ben: And I didn't really die!

Allison (crying in happiness): Ben! You're here!

_(Allison and Ben hug)_

_Enter Five, lowered on stage from the rafters._

Five: And I'm also back!

Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben and Vanya all hug.

**End Scene.**

  
Ok, so it's not going to go like that. But what's the harm in indulging.

Here's what actually happens when she lands:

She steps out of the airport and realizes she doesn't have Diego's address.   
He never tells her anything about himself.  
She takes a cab to her hotel, takes a shower, and falls asleep.   
It's one in the morning, she'll figure out where Diego lives tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I just felt like fucking around a bit.


	9. 9. Allison and Diego

Allison has not been having a great day.

First, in her rush to fly here, she forgot to pack any bras, so she's been having to wear the same one she travelled with yesterday, and she hates wearing plane clothes.

Then, when she was having breakfast in the concierge lounge, the coffee had an aftertaste of minestrone soup, and it was so hot it burned her tongue. Now she has a stinging rough patch near the tip, and she can't stop running it against the roof of her mouth.

Third, she couldn't find a cab, and an older couple swooped in and stole the one she had the front desk call for her from right under her nose.   
She was too annoyed to go back inside and ask to be called another, so she decided she'd start walking towards the hospital and hopefully find another cab on the way.

Of course, it started to pour when she was just far enough from the hotel that going back would have just meant getting even more soaked, and of course she doesn't have an umbrella, she doesn't even have bras.   
Well, she does have one, but it's a stupid useless tattoo on her left forearm, and it's just mocking her.

Fourth, of fifth, she's starting to lose count, she did find a cab, but the driver wouldn't let her in because she was too wet and he had just had his seats reupholstered; between the rain and the traffic, he couldn't hear her rumor and drove off, so she had to take the bus.

On the bus, packed like sardines, someone kept jostling her and at one point she felt a hand slide down her backside, so she had to stomp down on a pervert's foot, turn around and knee him in the groin. At least nobody seemed to recognize her, with her hair flattened to her scalp and her makeup running down her face.

But then again, nobody recognized her and asked for her autograph, or offered her their seat, so that was just rude and inconsiderate of them.

When she finally got to the hospital, she had to rumor the nice lady at the front desk because she seemed to take patient confidentiality very seriously, and didn't care that Allison was the one paying the hospital a frankly shameful amount of money.   
She just would not tell her the address they had on file for Klaus, what else could Allison do but hear a rumor.   
She can stop whenever she wants.  
Anyway, the lady didn't know what had actually happened to Klaus and only had access to admin, what a useless nice lady.

Then, she found a cab driver who would take her to Diego's address, so that was the first stroke of good luck, hooray for the cab driver, but he drove her to a boxing gym of all places, and of course. Just, of course, stupid Diego would give the address of his gym, paranoid bastard.   
Or maybe he's there so often he practically lives there, both options seem plausible to her.

Once she went inside to ask for her stupid brother, a horribly grumpy little man took her to a horribly dark little basement that looks like the lair of a conspiracy theorist, and of course stupid Diego does actually live in the stupid gym. 

Now she's stuck in the dankest room she's ever been in, sitting on a plastic bag on the couch not because her clothes are still wet, which they are, by the way, thanks for asking, but because she doesn't want to touch anything in this hovel.   
It smells like damp and feet.

It's been hours, and she's getting hungry and really has to pee, and Diego doesn't seem to have a bathroom: "peeing is for sissies, real men hold it", she guesses.   
She wouldn't put it past her brother, and as stubborn as he is he might actually be able to win a battle of wills against his bladder.  
Then she remembers it's a gym, so there's probably some toilets in the changing rooms, and no. Just no. She's not doing that.

An hour later, she uses the toilet in the changing rooms, and she sees herself in the mirror: her hair has dried frizzy and wild, her makeup has run down her face, her Armani pantsuit is all wrinkled and damp.   
She looks a fucking mess.   
She runs the rough patch on her tongue across the roof of her mouth, and it still stings. 

She buys a stale protein bar from the horribly rude little man who showed her in, sits back on her plastic bag and fumes - when Diego finally shows his face, she's going to kick his ass.   
Or maybe she'll rumor him into doing something ridiculous and humiliating, like wearing underwear on his head for a full day, or acting like a chicken, or kneeling at her feet and declaring her his favorite sibling.  
Maybe she'll rumor him to only refer to her as "My Liege Lady" from now on, that sounds both very annoying for Diego and very satisfying for Allison.   
When Diego finally shows his face, they are going to have _words_.

  
Diego has been having an extraordinarily shit day.

First, the hot water in the stupid showers ran out halfway through, and while he doesn't mind a cold shower in general, he hates a _suddenly_ cold one.

Then, his shitty blender broke, so he couldn't have his breakfast protein shake and had to make do with shitty instant coffee and raw eggs. Now he's going to get hangry around 11 o'clock, great.

Third, he spent most of the morning running around the damn city, again, showing all the homeless people his brother's damn mugshot, again, and nobody has seen him, again.   
It's like he's living in that movie where the same day keeps repeating over and over, you know the one, it has a stupid name about a damn prairie dog or something like that.

Of course, it started to rain cats and dogs while he was three fucking blocks away from his fucking car, asking a fucking junkie if he had seen his fucking brother, and he was soaked to the fucking bone when he finally got back in the car. He never carries or uses a fucking umbrella, he wants nothing to do with them.   
Fuck umbrellas.

Fourth of fifth, he's lost count, when he got out of the eighth homeless shelter where, again, nobody had any information about his idiot brother, one of the rearview mirrors of his car was smashed, and it was the one on the side of the sidewalk, so some idiot had purposefully kicked it off. Fucking scum, kicking off Diego's fucking mirrors like he wouldn't make pincushions of them if he caught them in the act.

On his way to the next shelter, he caught Eudora on his illicit police scanner responding to a 10-32, so he had to make a detour and go help her out because he'll be damned if he lets her go after an armed man with only the other cops for backup - he knows they're incompetent, ok, he's been kicking way more ass than them and if it wasn't for him they wouldn't have even caught the fucking serial killer that's now dead, but still forcing him to trawl all over the city in search for his brother, a-fucking-gain.   
Instead of thanking him, Eudora fucking tased him and told him to "stop trying to be a hero, Diego, I'm not a damsel in distress", and now he's offended her, perfect, just what he needed.   
She doesn't get he's not trying to be a hero, it's just that he _is_.   
That's what he does when he cares - Luther, for instance, is the farthest thing from a damsel in distress, but he would still not let him face down a gunman alone, and he barely cares about Luther at all, he swears, barely at all. Shut up.  
Anyway, Eudora told him to get lost, again, and fuck her, next time she can get shot, see how she likes that. Not really though, please don't get shot.

When he finally found a girl who had seen his moron of a brainless fucking brother, she told him she had seen him two nights before, going into an alleyway with a client - and she calls them _clients_ because she's a classy bitch, she says - and then the client came out of the alley but she didn't see Klaus come out, and that's just fucking great.   
He swears, if stupid moron brainless fucking Klaus survived a fucking monster of a serial killer only to get murdered in an alleyway by some damn idiot asshole with no finesse or actual serial killer skills, while sucking dick, Diego is going to use his grave as a fucking toilet, how does that sound, would you like that, you moron.   
Shit, what if he would. He's always been a kinky bastard, maybe he's into scat. Oh God, stop thinking about that.  
Anyway, his brother is missing.   
Again.   
One thing in his whole life Klaus is consistent about, other than the drugs of course, he goes missing like it's his fucking job.

He's not even worried at this point, his day has been so immeasurably shitty that he is just angry as all hell - it's easier to be angry, it drowns out the guilt of having fucked up so monumentally that he got the exact opposite result of what he wanted to achieve. 

When he gets home, looking and feeling like a wet fucking sewer rat, hands itching to go to town on a punching bag, his door has been opened. Good. He hopes whoever was stupid enough is still inside, better than a punching bag. He's going to fuck them up good.

  
Oh, fucking great. As if this day couldn't get any worse.

  
"You asshole, I've been waiting the whole damn day for you!" , "What the fuck are you doing in my home, get out, I don't want you here," in perfect, dissonant unison, like twisted twins. She hasn't even bothered standing up, like a queen holding court from her throne.

"You've got some nerve, Diego, if you don't want me to track you down and kick your ass maybe pick up a phone and fucking call me back next time, so I don't have to fly cross-country just to get a fucking answer!" , "Well, next time maybe wait to be invited someplace before showing up, I got shit going on, Allison! Just cause you're a movie star doesn't mean you're more important than my time!", talking over each other, again. He's been coming down the stairs as he shouted, and is now standing right in front of her.

They both take a breath, look at each other with blazing eyes.   
If only she hadn't been so close to Luther, if only he hadn't been so resentful of Luther, they might have grown up best friends.  
Allison gestures for Diego to go first, because someone has to give and she knows it's not going to be him.

"What are you doing here, Allison, and how did you even find my place?", still gruff, but now she hears tiredness as well.

"I'm looking for Klaus," she says, straight to the point. Everything else she will question later, now she just wants to see that Klaus is alright.

"Well, join the fucking club, sister," and he's just tired now, exhausted to the bones.

"What the fuck, did you lose him?!", she half-shouts, angry again, worried again, she needs to see that Klaus is alright.

"More like he lost me, I don't think he wants to be found," and that's not the full truth, but he can't tell Allison of all people that he was so incompetent at loving someone that they chose to be homeless rather than be in his company.

He sits down next to her on his smelly couch, he should probably get a new one at some point - a niggling small part of his brain feels a little ashamed that his Hollywood star sister is in his tiny damp barely-an-apartment.   
But then he looks down, and she's sitting on a plastic bag like she doesn't want his disgusting things touching her perfect pants, they're probably some schmancy fancy designer that cost more than his groceries for a year, and fuck her.

"You look a mess, by the way," he strikes so she can't see she hurt him a little by acting like his life is gross and she doesn't want to touch it. 

"So do you, baby, you look like a newborn sewer rat," because she knows Diego responds well to banter, it's been the basis of his whole relationship with Klaus forever, and he looks so tired now she's almost a bit worried for him.

"Well, you look like a raccoon that's been sucked in a lawnmower," and he's not gonna lie, he finds it a little funny that she landed on sewer rat, of all the vermin she could have chosen. He does feel like that, point to Allison.

She stands up, "I didn't snoop around or touch anything, if you're worried about that, but now I'm starving and thirsty as hell. Can we maybe have this conversation over dinner?", she asks, and she's not exactly offering to take him out to a restaurant, but if he takes it that way and they do go out she'll insist on paying, because she can afford it and it will piss him off.

"I only got eggs and some kale, and my blender is fucked so I can't even make you a protein shake," he knows that's not what she meant, but if she wants to go out to dinner with him she will have to fucking ask, so he can accept on the caveat that he's the one who pays. 

She folds, because someone's got to give and she knows it's not going to be him.

"Diego, let's go have some dinner somewhere and you can tell me what happened to Klaus, and why I'm subsidizing a whole new wing of the hospital."   
"Fine, but I'm paying", eyes glinting, he knows he's won this round.  
"Great. I want Italian, know any good place?", "I know a place, can't promise it's good," she's probably used to fancy Hollywood food.

  
Her pasta smells like the trattoria she had lunch at in Rome on her honeymoon, and her wine looks a deep and rich red that reminds her of the ruby earrings Patrick got her as an anniversary present. 

Diego tells her what happened.

Her pasta and her wine stay untouched.

  



	10. 10. Klaus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments, by the way, they are all read and appreciated and very much savoured :)
> 
> Fair warning, this one went pretentious and weird, but it kept going just as pretentious and weird at every pass so I figured I'd just let it. It clearly wants to smoke French cigarettes and go snap its fingers at some spoken word.

He's wonderful, and amazing. He is, he totally is. He's a fantabulous abstract painting that looks weird from up close, but when you take a few steps back, wow, it still looks weird as fuck.  
He's intimidatingly smart, and he's side-splittingly funny, and he totally is a nice person, absolutely, he wouldn't lie or steal or manipulate or 

Look, fine, he knows that he doesn't have that many great qualities, he knows. He doesn't like to admit it, but he knows.  
He does have some, though: he's real pretty, he knows that much, he's been told that enough times to be sure of that; he sucks dick real well, eats pussy real good, can take a cock, no matter how big, like it's his calling in life, and for all he knows it might very well be - he's heard all of that too many times to count.

He also knows he's never been superlative, at anything.  
He's not the strongest, that's Luther.   
He's not the most heroic, that's Diego, or the most charismatic, that's Allison.   
He's not the smartest, that used to be Five, or the kindest, that used to be Ben - he's not the bitchiest either, that's Ben now.  
He's not even the most unremarkable, that's Vanya.   
God, that's so mean of him.  
Maybe he's the meanest.   
But no, that also used to be Five.

Even the things he's sure he's good at, nobody ever told him he was the best at. Nobody told him he gave them the best blowjob they ever had, or the biggest orgasm; nobody told him his dick was the biggest, or his ass the tightest.   
Just real good, baby, real tight, you're so pretty, are you even prettier when you cry? I guess we'll find out - come on now, no need to go down that path, you've got enough shit on your plate right now and you've been dealing just fine with all that.  
He can deal just fine with most things.

Because you see, the one thing he's always been proud of is that he is adaptable and flexible like silly putty - he thinks, he never got to actually play with that.  
He can be put into any situation, and has been put into many a situation, and he will find a way to twist himself into the optimal shape to survive it.  
He will fight and be mean if he needs to, be submissive and harmless if that is what's called for, be seductive and flirty if it's the only way out.   
He'll sell out his body, who cares, it's only a body.  
He loves sex, except when he hates it, but he's learned to take pleasure in hating it too.  
He'll strip himself of his dignity, it doesn't matter, dignity is overrated.  
If you humiliate yourself enough on your own, it will hurt so much less when someone else does it.  
He can forego sleep for as long as he needs to be alert, skip as many meals as he doesn't get to eat, he could probably drink his own piss if he had nothing else to drink - and knowing him there would be enough of a drug residue in it that he might actually enjoy it.

So he doesn't understand why he's not bouncing back from this, why he seems to have lost all his malleability.   
He feels like he's made of some brittle material now, and instead of twisting and pretzeling and springing back into his original shape he's fraying down the middle as he's being stretched.  
He hasn't felt this way since the mausoleum, since he's had to learn how to twist and pretzel and spring back into shape.   
The most baffling part is that he can't even fake it; his usual defense mechanism is failing him, he's just a completely exposed, raw nerve and anything that even brushes up against him startles and hurts.   
It all hurts so much.

Loneliness hurts, company hurts more. Or less. Or just as much? Who the fuck knows, not him.  
He's never been close with Vanya, who is too meek and even-tempered for his liking. He likes his siblings to have a little bite to them, that's why he liked Diego and Allison, who are both toothy as fuck, and why he likes Ben, who grew teeth after he died.   
Vanya only ever showed teeth with her book, and to be honest that was a little too many for his liking.   
He likes his siblings to have _a little_ bite to them, not a shark bite that leaves you maimed even when that wasn't the intention - that's why he was never all that close with Five either.   
Faced with Diego's deep hurt, that manifested, as usual, as anger, and with Ben's pained confusion, that manifested, as usual, as disappointment, he pretended like he didn't think the book was that big of a deal; "good for her", he'd say, "if I had the patience to write a whole book, oooh, you couldn't pay me to stop writing tell-alls".  
But he was just as hurt, just as confused.  
He remembers everything Vanya wrote about him, and how could he forget, it's not like he's read anything else since. Also, let's be real here, he tends to remember everything that's about him.   
Quiet, sweet little Vanya, it turns out, secretly hated them all throughout their childhood, and would have preferred being locked in a fucking mausoleum and experimented upon to being left alone, undisturbed, free to explore and pursue her hobbies and passions.  
So he's a little bitter about it, so what.

He remembers everything she wrote about him, so he can't quite buy her worried cow eyes now, because he knows she thinks deep down he deserved it.   
Whatever happened to him, and he does appreciate she's not pushing to find out, he does, but whatever happened to him wouldn't have happened if he had just been more responsible, more careful, more like her, or like Ben, or like any of the others, really, the problem is just him.  
And the shitty part of it is, he agrees.   
He brought it on himself.   
He brought a couple of days of torture on himself, just by being his usual self and getting into a car with a stranger, planning to get bent over and get fucked and get paid; he then earned the following however many days, he still doesn't know, just by being his usual self and failing at the most basic human functions, like dying.

Was dad right, has dad always been right about him?   
He's such a complete failure at being a person that he can't even die, he can't even get that right.   
Is it going to last forever?   
Is he even going to grow old, how the fuck does this work, he's been aging like normal until now, his hairline is even receding a little and fuck _that_ , by the way, but what if that first death was like a dam and now there's a whole fucking flood of weird shit coming his way?   
Is he going to live fucking forever, does he ever get to leave?   
It's turtles all the way down, so to speak, but the turtles are assholes and they all tell him he's fucked in the head, in dad's voice.

People have called him crazy for as long as he can remember, he does speak to what looks like thin air to everyone else, and he always liked to play on that, use it to manipulate them; but now he really does feel like he's losing whatever sanity the drugs and the ghosts had left him.   
His thoughts twist back on themselves over and over and then over again, he can't get out of them, they're an endless labyrinth and there's not even David Bowie being hot in his eyeliner to bring him any relief at all.  
He doesn't want to think about it, but he can't stop thinking about it, every detail, every sound, every smell, what happened what is happening what will happen.

Would crying help, he doesn't know, he thinks that's such a cliché - "just let it all out, have a good cry and you will feel better," that's always been bullshit for him, crying has never been good and he's never felt better after it - but he feels there's this pressure growing and growing in his chest, from the inside out, and what if that's how Ben used to feel.   
Is something going to burst out of him, and rip him open from the inside?   
He's been ripped open from the outside so much, that might make for a nice change of pace.

He's a real pretty crier, he's been told that enough times to be sure of that.

Why is he not bouncing back from this, he should be happy, really, he now has implicit permission from the universe to be even more reckless, because the stakes could not be lower for him.   
He can't die. He doesn't die. He will not die, who knows for how long, maybe forever.  
Does he even want to die? Who does? Who complains about that, he's so stupid. 

He wants to die, but he doesn't, and he's so tired of everything he wants it to stop but he's not sure what it is that he wants stopped, and he wants to be alone, but he also wants his family, but Diego doesn't really love him, he just wants to solve him like a puzzle, and Allison doesn't care anymore, she left him behind as soon as she could, and Vanya has always hated him, she thinks he's a selfish idiot who's too much of a coward to deserve his gift, and Luther never cared about him and he's on the fucking Moon, who the fuck just lives on the Moon, and Five always was the smartest of all of them, dying as a child when everything was still bearable.  
  
He wants Ben, Ben knows why he's fucked, he doesn't have to tell Ben anything, Ben's been there for all of everything, but Ben is dead, and now Klaus will never join him and will never stop feeling guilty that he gets to live and he's doing such a piss poor job of it and Ben gets nothing, Ben gets everything, Ben gets to be dead, Ben can never live again or taste again or smell again or touch

and then the world changes forever  
because Ben hugs him  
he can't remember the last time   
someone hugged him  
even when Diego saved him  
and his hands were kind  
he doesn't remember being hugged  
the pressure in his chest bursts him open  
it's not tears  
it's just a scream  
he screams as long as he has air in his lungs  
and Ben is still holding him

Ben keeps holding him, and he's breaking apart but he's not afraid anymore because Ben keeps holding him, Ben will catch all of his pieces and keep them safe for him, until he's ready to glue himself back together

And it's not enough, it's not nearly enough

But it's a start.


	11. 11. Vanya and Klaus

  
She doesn't get Klaus.  
She never got Klaus.  
Maybe because he always seemed to oscillate fast like quicksilver between extreme emotions, while she never felt anything stronger than mild annoyance, dull sadness or muted serenity, and she was always taught anything bigger than that was toxic and dangerous and bad for her.   
Klaus is a mystery to her, his personality and his power even more inscrutable than any of her other siblings'.   
He's like an obscure art film, at times she thinks he hides depths that sustain entire ecosystems, at times she's convinced that trying too hard to dissect him will reveal there's not really that much underneath an aesthetically pleasing veneer.

She also always got the impression that Klaus thought very little of her, if at all; if he didn't completely disregard her existence, he surely thought she was dull and boring.   
When she published her book, he sent her a bunch of wilted flowers clearly picked from the trash, with a card that said "Congratulations Mum and Dad on your 50th anniversary!", and she still isn't sure if it was a fuck you or if he was trying to be nice.  
It did make her realize that somehow he had her address, even though she never gave it to him.   
He's never visited her once, until now.

She doesn't understand why he came to her now, what he thinks she can do for him, and honestly she's not sure there is anything she can do for him.   
Out of everyone, why would he go to the ordinary one? The only thing she knows is how to play the violin, and even that, not well enough to go past third chair, or to teach anyone other than beginners.  
It's been throwing her off all morning, she has been distracted all throughout rehearsal, and the conductor noticed because she already had a strike against her for being late.

"You need to decide if this orchestra is a priority for you; I don't think I need to remind you that if it isn't, there's plenty of other violinists in the city who are good enough to be third chair," reprimanded like a child, in front of everyone, and she doesn't know if it was a dick move or just the way conductors are supposed to speak to their musicians when the musicians are as mediocre as her.

She doesn't want to push Klaus too hard, because she's witnessed him pushing back with a viciousness that she wouldn't know how to withstand, but she needs at least _some_ answers - assuming, of course, he's still there when she gets home.   
This morning she told him she would be happy if he stayed, almost begged him not to leave; now that she's calmer and her pills have kicked in, she's not entirely sure it's true anymore.   
She might be relieved if he's gone, and she can just forget the whole thing and chalk up his weirdness to a bad trip, or just him being him. 

Because he's always been weird, that's not just the drugs.  
He's always alternated almost manically between gleeful exuberance and morose morbidity, silly laughter and horrified silence. 

She doesn't know what to think of him, and he scares her a little. 

After Five, she kept asking him to try and summon his ghost, so they could know for sure if he was dead - she was convinced that he wasn't, but everyone else kept telling her that hoping would just hurt her more.   
She kept asking him, until he snapped at her with ferocious eyes that she would not be happy if he could summon Five, and even if he couldn't it wouldn't mean Five was still alive - there was no version of it that had a happy ending, she should accept that Five was just gone. Not in a better place, not in any place at all, just nowhere.  
She's been asking herself ever since if that was meant to comfort her or destroy her - she still can't tell; his eyes were ferocious, but his voice was euphoric, and his smile was kind.   
She can barely recognize one of her own emotions at a time, and so many seem to live inside Klaus all at once that she's never been able to parse them.

After Ben, everything broke.  
Vanya looked at her siblings, and they were all devastated, and she was too, of course, she still hurts so much when she thinks about Ben and it's the only pain her pills won't completely take away, but she couldn't help but think she should be _more_ devastated.   
Or maybe it was her siblings who didn't have the right to be that mournful, Ben was her closest friend, not any of theirs.  
Ben had been everyone's port in a storm for a time, but since she could remember it had been One and Three, Two and Four, later Allison and Klaus; she had had Five, and when he left - not died, he didn't die - Ben became hers.  
She should get to mourn Ben the most.  
It figured that her siblings wouldn't let her have anything special, not even be the one most hurt.   
Watching Klaus descend into a spiral of reckless self-destruction just annoyed her, because what right did he have.   
He still had Diego, and Allison.   
He didn't have any right to shroud himself in a grief he shouldn't feel, not any more than her.  
It just added to her growing list of grievances against them, just another little drop raising the level of her frustration infinitesimally higher.

She doesn't regret writing her book, she doesn't.  
Sometimes she wishes she hadn't done it, but it's not regret, it's just that she thought she'd feel better after it, and instead she feels the same.   
But if her siblings are mad at her, well, that's their problem, isn't it - it was her story too, her childhood too. She gets the right to tell it to whoever she chooses, in whatever words she chooses.  
Just because she's not special doesn't mean she shouldn't get a voice, not now that she's not in the Academy anymore, she shouldn't be silenced anymore. Right? Of course.   
She doesn't regret it at all, and if she could do it again she would (not).  
It was not meant to hurt them, it was meant to heal her; if it succeeded at what it never meant to do, well, that's pretty much the definition of an accident. Nothing more. 

Will Klaus still be there, on her couch? Does she want him to be there?   
If he's gone, will she worry?   
Is she worried that she might worry in the future?   
Oh God, should she be worrying that she's worried she might worry about Klaus?   
And what if she doesn't worry, should she be worried that she might not worry enough?  
Ok, now it doesn't even sound like a real word anymore, so it's all fine.

  
When she gets home, not only is Klaus still there, but he looks much more alive; well, as alive as she's used to seeing him, at least.   
He's rummaging through her kitchen cupboards, and maybe it's ungenerous of her, but she can't help but assume he's looking for her pills, or some booze.  
He's muttering to himself, voice low, she can't make out most of the words other than some nonsensical snippets about birdseed, bluebells, and bleach baths?   
She never got Klaus.

She clears her throat, and he startles.

"Vanya! My vociferous - nah, that doesn't fit her at all, does it? Let's say, virtuous. My virtuous violin virtuoso - oh no, that's bad. My ... Viperous? Jesus, V is really hard. Shut up, ok, I got this. My voluptuous violin vixen? V...elcome vack? - ok, fine, I give up." 

Vanya doesn't even know how to respond to that, does it even warrant a response?  
It feels like he's trying too hard, overcompensating, but it's better than the dead eyes and monosyllabic answers she was getting this morning.   
It is, right, it has to be. 

Maybe she can get the conversation back on an intelligible track, get her life back to the place she likes it - predictable, scheduled, no harsh extremes.  
"Klaus, how are you feeling? Incidentally, can I just ask what you were doing in my cupboards?" she doesn't want to offend him, again, he scares her a little, but she does want him to know she noticed.

"Vanny-Van, I am feeling splendid - shut up - you don't need to worry about me, I'll be out of your hair before you can say - what's a music word? No, an easier one - nice! I'll be out of your hair before you can say sonata," and his voice is airy, he sounds like every word is an inside joke, except she's never been on the inside, has she.   
He seems to be having a side conversation with nothing, and she suspects there is no ghost there at all.   
She suspects most of his conversations with the air are entirely faked, just to unnerve people.   
He also still hasn't answered her about her cupboards.

She sighs. She forgot how much sheer effort it could take to have a conversation with Klaus, sometimes. "That's great that you're feeling better, and don't worry, you can stay as long as you need" - she's not sure she means it, but it's good manners, isn't it - "but were you looking for something? Do you want some food, maybe?" - she doubts he was looking for food, maybe she shouldn't be giving him such an easy out. She's never known how to stand her ground.

"Oooh, yes, food would be fabulous, fantastic, formidable. Fancy food, fiercely fulfilling food - Ok, fine, you spoilsport, no need to be a bitch about it. Not you, Vanya. I am starving, shrivelling, shrinking - ow, just because you can touch now doesn't mean you can hit, you asshole!" 

She gives up. He was looking for drugs, or alcohol, and he wouldn't have found any, she keeps her pills on her at all times and hasn't bought any booze in ages, she finished her last bottle of Scotch after Bach's partita no. 3 defeated her miserably.  
"I can make us something for lunch, if you want, maybe some pasta? I don't have much, but it should be enough for two."

He jumps up to sit on her counter, looks at her with his large eyes, slightly red-rimmed, and giggles. "Look at us, Vanya, who would have thought, right? A dynamic duo - no, this one was a happy little accident, I swear! - ooooh, can I help you? I'll be your little assistant bitch - sous chef, right, thank you - and chop up all your shit for you - it's totally safe, shut up."

She can't help herself, when he's like this, no sharp edges to his playfulness. None of them have ever been able to help themselves when he's like this, not even Five.  
She smiles, and nods, and they get to work side by side in her tiny kitchen - his long limbs keep knocking into all the cabinets and drawers, and every time he moans like he's just been shot. For the first time in her life she's glad her arms and legs are so short, she's never banged into anything in this kitchen.

He acts like he's never heard such exotic words as sauté pan, or al dente, or, absurdly, cutting board; when she asks him to shuck the garlic, he melts in delight, and she hears increasingly graphic descriptions of how well he can shuck whatever she wishes for minutes that feel like years.

They sit down together and eat their four-hand pasta.  
It's disgusting, somehow the sauce too salty and the pasta too bland at the same time, but they eat every forkful of it, laughing and groaning after every bite.

"Well, VanVan, thank you for the splendiferous meal, it was even better than the dumpster behind Mama's Bakery - how is that mean, that's a compliment if I ever heard one!" - he's standing up now, and she knows he's about to leave. 

All of a sudden she's sure she doesn't want him to leave.

"Excuse you, I am pretty sure that good little assistant bitches would do the dishes as well," she gambles. He liked being played with, as a child, he kept trying to get everyone to play with him far past the point where they all understood playtime was restricted to Saturdays, between noon and half past noon.

If she pushes too hard for him to stay, he will leave, she knows.   
She never got Klaus, but maybe that's not true, maybe she does get him, because she thinks she sees a whole soliloquy in his eyes, and she knows he's going to stay before he opens his mouth.   
His eyes dart to the side again and again, maybe there really is a ghost there, and if there is she thinks she likes whoever that person was: they're clearly on her side. 

Klaus deflates a little, "you drive a hard bargain, you taskmaster, you. Fine, let Klausderella - what, it totally works, come on - clean up after you, oh evil stepsister, while you laze about, and gaze in amazement at how many dishes I break" - he winks, and he's playing, maybe she still remembers how to play with him. 

She stands up and gathers the dishes herself, goes to the sink; "How about this, I wash and you dry. Think you can manage not to break anything if I _don't_ leave you unsupervised?"

"Well, that's a very tall order, oh sweet sister, not evil at all; I am willing to go as low as one broken dish, and I can throw in a free shattered glass just because you're so pretty. Deal?" 

"I'm not going to get a better offer than this, am I, so deal."

True to word, he does break a dish when his fingers tremble suddenly and uncontrollably, but no glasses are shattered - she almost teases him about it, but he might just smash one on the floor if she does, so she decides not to.

He looks like he's getting antsy again, and the only thing she can think of to keep him there is more playtime - he was never satisfied with the 30 minutes they got, it was never ever enough for him.   
She asks him to teach her to play poker, of all things, it's the first thing that pops in her head.

She knows how to play poker.

Turns out, he's terrible at it, even though he acts like a grand master strategist doling out invaluable wisdom.   
She can't keep from laughing every time she wins a hand and he looks outraged and betrayed; his eyes twinkle every time, so, so proud of having made her laugh.

At half past four, Charlie rings the doorbell for his lesson; Klaus jumps, as frightened as a nervous cat, scattering the cards around him like oversized confetti and making her laugh, again, and she realizes three things: 

1\. She's completely lost track of time;  
2\. She hasn't taken her meds since 9 this morning;   
and   
3\. She's fine.


	12. 12. Diego and Allison

Diego is actually, physically writing a note to his future self, like a total dork loser.  
The note says: "If you're thinking of getting a sidekick, remember Allison".  
Because, oh my God, does he not work well with others, and isn't that a sad indictment of just how much of a failed experiment his whole childhood was.

He could not convince Allison that he had this covered and would find Klaus on his own, she insisted on joining him - "Come on, Diego, I know that you know I can help" - and he's never met anyone more stubborn than her in his whole life, damn her, so he had to relent. He didn't want to find out if she would rumor him to accept her help, ok, he always hated being rumored.

He regretted it after one minute, when her first suggestion was "we should go around the city and ask everyone on the streets if they've seen him", as if he's a brain-dead idiot and that wasn't the first thing he did.   
Do his siblings all think he's a moron, what the fuck. 

"What do you think I've been doing, while you were living it up in Hollywood? Pounding the pavement, following leads, grilling all sorts of low-lifes."

"God, you sound like a bad 80s cop show."

Yeah, he did not enjoy this at all, not even a little.

If he thought canvassing the underbelly of the city on his own had been unpleasant, he had no idea just how much worse it could get with his fucking sister nagging him all the way.

"Do we even have a strategy here or are we just picking alleys at random?" 

"Shut up, you don't know shit about this city, you've been away for ten years. I know what Klaus's usual spots are."

"No way, Diego, I'm not going in that one, look how many used needles are on the ground!"

"Then wait here, your Highness, I'll go and check myself."

"Yeah, right, so you can glower at a poor frightened kid again and make him cry, again. Fuck it, I'm coming with."

"That poor frightened kid pulled a knife on me, Allison!"

"So you found your soulmate, and you made him cry?"

"Oh, shut up, or I'm driving off without you and leaving you here."

"Oh no, whatever will I do. Abandoned in the middle of a modern, bustling metropolis, which I grew up in, by the way, with nothing to help me survive other than the millions in my bank account. You're such a hard-ass, Diego."

"Shush, now, that guy's asleep - and he's not Klaus, we can go to another alley."

"And again, may I ask: what the fuck is the plan, here, oh fearless leader?"

"You're the one who said we should go around and ask everyone - and I quote, everyone - if they saw him, because apparently me doing it already wasn't good enough for you, so will you quit bitching now?"

"God, you're a jerk. I thought we'd come up with a system - I mean, have you even kept track of which alleys we've already scoped?"

"Pssht, of course I have."

"Yeah, I think we did this one already, I recognize the very elegant giant dick spray-painted on that wall over there."

"I'll take your word for it, I'm not a dick connoisseur."

"Really, I thought you'd be an expert on giant dicks, seeing as you are one."

"What is your problem, why are you being such a bitch now?"

"How about because you have not been keeping track of shit, you idiot? Who knows how much time we wasted checking the same alleys again and again!"

"I'll tell you how much time I wasted: all of it! This is such a fucking giant waste of time, I told you already. I checked all of this shit twice already!"

"And your powers of observation are such that you didn't even notice the giant dick on the wall, Diego, so that really inspires trust in your investigative skills."

"God, shut up. Let's check that one, no giant dicks in that one."

"There's about to be one."

"Funny."

"Maybe we should go to the police."

"And tell them what, our homeless junkie brother is somewhere being a homeless junkie and we don't know where he is doing that? No, we have no evidence of any foul play. No, it's not unusual at all for me not to see him for more than a few days at a time - and my sister here hasn't seen him for a full decade! Yeah, sounds like the police will be super interested."

"Well, genius, he was kidnapped..." 

"There was no request for ransom, so the right word is abducted."

"Who fucking cares, Diego! He was kidnapped - I will say whatever word I want, keep your mouth shut - by a serial killer, he was tortured for days, and after he was released from the hospital my genius brother just let him waltz right back to the streets he was kidnapped from - not one fucking word, Diego."

"Still not anything to do with the police."

"What if someone else kidnapped him?"

"Ok, one: abducted, again, no ransom. Two: I would actually be impressed, that would be almost comical levels of shit luck. Three: still not something the police can help with, unless we have actual evidence and not a what if."

"You do know there doesn't have to be a request for ransom for it to be kidnapping, right?"

"Yes, there does."

"No, Diego, you're remembering it wrong, it applies to any time someone's taken against their will."

"You are so fucking wrong."

  
"See? 'Kidnapping may be done for ransom or for political or other purposes'. Ha."

"Oh my God, you always have to be right, don't you. What do you want, a medal, now? Oooh, perfect Number Three, she's always right, Daddy's perfect little princess. Still not good enough for him to love you, were you."

"You are an unbelievable asshole. And a fucking hypocrite, you are the one who insisted we come to the library and look up the definition, you would be gloating right now if you weren't so completely wrong - as usual. Why don't you go cry to mommy?"

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you more, dick."

"Check this one?"

"Sure."

"Anything?"

"No."

"Maybe the next."

"Maybe."

"I'm hungry."

"...that Thai place over there is nice."

"Split a Pad Thai with me?"

"I'm more in the mood for a curry."

"We could go half and half?"

"Sounds good."

"Truce?"

"Sounds good."

"Oh my God, Diego, this is amazing! How did you even know about this place, it's a hole in the wall?"

"Came here on a date once, and I've been coming back ever since."

"Ooooh, a date - anyone serious?"

"Since when do you care."

"...since you know all this shit about everyone's life, but I know nothing about yours at all. I didn't even have your address, Diego, what if something happened to you. I would never even find out."

"Someone would call you, you would find out."

"Yeah, sounds like an amazing phone call. Can't wait to get it."

"...I thought it was serious, for a while. She thought it was serious too, but she didn't know that I thought it was serious."

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever, it's over. I'm over it."

"Still, I'm sorry. Sucks."

"Yeah, sucks."

"God, this is pointless. I feel like I'm in Groundhog Day, every alley is exactly the same."

"Groundhog, right. I knew it was a weird thing about a rodent. What the fuck do groundhogs have to do with anything, anyway."

"You know it's just because the movie takes place on February 2nd and it doesn't have anything to do with actual groundhogs, right?"

"And what does February 2nd have to do with it?"

"It's tradition, it's called groundhog day."

"Really? Why?"

"I have no clue, Patrick never explained that part. It's just apparently an old superstition."

"Huh. Good to know, I guess. Weird, though."

"As weird as being teenage superheroes?"

"Maybe not _that_ weird."

"Hey, you think we missed any other traditions growing up?"

"I'm sure we did. But we had so many of our own! Think of all the poor deprived children who grew up never knowing the joys of 6 AM drill runs in the rain."

"Right, they must have grown into such crippled adults. I'm putting my foot down with Patrick, as soon as Claire turns 5 we're going to start with the morning drills."

"Right, gotta get 'em started when they're young."

"You were kidding about Claire, right?"

"Jesus, Diego, of course I was!"

"Right, of course. Don't get your panties in a twist, Jeez."

"I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean for it to sound like I think you're a horrible mother."

"...but what if I am?"

"Well, we had a horrible father and turned out ok, didn't we?"

"Diego, we've been roaming the city for hours looking for our drug addict brother who was abducted and tortured for days, we hadn't seen each other in ten years before that, you live in a derelict basement, I rumor people every time something doesn't go my way. Luther lives on the fucking Moon. How is any of that ok?"

"...thank you for saying abducted."

"...you're welcome."

"Does Klaus look as bad as that guy?"

"No, he doesn't. He's thin, but not that much thinner than he's always been, and the month of three meals a day helped, too."

"Yeesh, hospital meals - don't know anyone those would be good for."

"Yeah, you do."

"...does he smell as bad as that guy?"

"Sometimes."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"You know he's a hooker, right?"

"Klaus?"

"No, dad. When he takes off that monocle, shit, no one can resist him. The animal magnetism."

"Idiot."

"Of course, I meant Klaus. You know he went with that guy on purpose, to get fucked, he wasn't really abducted."

"So that makes what happened to him ok?"

"Did I say that? Jesus Christ, of course it wasn't ok. You don't get to act like you're the only one who cares about him, ok, I was the one who couldn't sleep or eat, I was the one who tracked him down, I was the one who found him covered in b-blood and shit and v-vomit, looking like a p-pile of m-m-meat at the b-b-butcher's shop and not a p-p-p-p-person..."

"Jesus, calm down. I know. Diego, I know. It's ok, you got him out, it's ok."

"I just meant, he was already fucked up, even before this. You haven't seen him in ten years, he's not the same as he was."

"He was pretty fucked up even ten years ago, Diego. He would tell me things that he would let people do to him, or sometimes even ask people to do to him. He was pretty fucked up already. I don't have any illusions about who he is."

"Yeah, well. Imagine ten more years of that, on top."

"I don't think I want to."

"Great for you. I didn't get the luxury of choosing not to want to."

"I had to leave, Diego."

"Did you have to never come back, though?"

"I'm back now, aren't I?"

"Only took a fucking catastrophe to get you to come back."

"Four-syllable word, good for you."

"Fuck off."

"You know, technically 'abduction' also refers to taking a person by fraud, not only by force, so if the guy pretended he wanted to fuck Klaus to grab him it does still apply."

"We are not starting this again, Allison. No way."

"I'm just saying, even if he went in that car of his own free will, he was still abducted."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Diego, you don't think Klaus would have gone to Vanya's, right?"

"Why would he?"

"There's none of us left, other than her."

"He would have sooner gone to Luther."

"He's on the Moon, though."

"I know, that's what I meant."

"But just think about it for a minute; nobody in the shelters has seen him, he's definitely not gone back to the Academy, he's not at your place and he can't afford a plane ticket to come to mine. He could have gone to Vanya's."

"I'm sure he doesn't even know where she lives."

"But what if he did know?"

"I don't see how he would, I don't even have her address."

"You don't?"

"Why would I fucking want it, after what she did."

"She's still our sister, Diego."

"Well, I know she's alive and I know she has a job. That's enough for me."

"Maybe we could check, just to be sure."

"So we should stop going around the city looking for Klaus and start going around the city looking for Vanya? Sure, sounds so much easier. We just have to knock on every door to see if she lives there instead of looking in every alley."

"Or we could look up where her orchestra plays, dum-dum, and wait for her at the theater?"

"...shut up."

"Still can't admit when I'm right, can you."

"Fine, you're right. Even if she doesn't know shit, still can't be more depressing than the fucking endless alleyways of doom."

"I know, Jesus Christ, this city sucks."

"Yeah, the level of homelessness is insane, they should do something about it."

"They really should."

"I'm not going in though, I don't want to speak to her."

"I'll go in by myself, don't worry. Tomorrow morning?"

"Sure."

"See you, Diego, it's been fun hanging out."

"Has it?"

"The most fun I had in years, roaming decrepit alleys with my dick brother is just my idea of a roaring good time!"

"Yeah, yeah. Good night, you insufferable nag."

"Night, asshole."

So yeah, he's written himself a fucking note.

Now he's somehow gotten trapped into visiting a sister he doesn't want to see, with another sister he would really like not to have to spend any more time with.

Klaus owes him so fucking big, he's going to have to - and just like that, he's found his fucking angle.

Klaus owes him so fucking big, he's going to have to stay with him, to repay him.  
He's pretty sure he can offer Klaus his love, if it's masquerading as repayment for having to spend time with their fucking sisters.   
He won't have to scrape through his soul and offer him painfully truthful nuggets of himself, he won't have to risk being rebuked and refused and rejected and ridiculed.  
Purely a transaction. "I did this unpleasant thing to find you, so now you're going to come stay with me and, I don't know, scrub my floors - he'll think of something - to repay me."

And he thinks Klaus can accept his help, if it's disguised as a debt to be settled; he won't have to owe him shit afterwards, he's just repaying something that's already owed.

After all, Klaus is most used to love when it's transactional.


	13. 13. Meanwhile, on the Moon (a Very Depressing Production)

  
It's cold.  
It's always cold.  
But it's fine, he's used to that, he's been trained to tolerate extreme temperatures since childhood; he's so strong, after all, he needed to learn just how much farther than a regular person his body could be pushed.

  
It's quiet.  
It's always quiet.  
But it's ok, his records were just a crutch, they would just distract him; he shouldn't lose himself in music and forget his place, his duty, his burden - not a burden, don't be ungrateful, it's an honor.

  
It's lonely.  
It's always lonely.  
But it's alright, he's used to being lonely, he's been lonely since everyone left the Academy.  
No, before that, he's been lonely since Allison left, when Diego and Klaus and Vanya were still there.  
No, before that, he's been lonely since he was made Number One, and Two was resentful, Four was contrarian, Five was derisive, Six was pitying and Seven was intimidated.

One is he loneliest number, after all, he remembers Klaus mocking him in his sing-song voice.

  
It's fine, he doesn't need them; he's prepared for this, Dad made sure.   
Dad would never send him off unprepared - except when he did, and now he's not him anymore because Dad didn't care, but that was not Dad's fault, and he would have died if Dad really didn't care. 

If he had had the others, during that mission, they would have won.   
They would have succeeded and he would be still him, he's so angry at them for leaving - or Diego would have gotten hurt, or Klaus, or, dear God, no, Allison, he's so glad they weren't there.   
No, he's sure now, if they were there he would have still gotten destroyed - he would have made sure he was the one to get destroyed - but maybe he would have not woken up cold, quiet, lonely.   
Maybe Allison would have been there and everything would have been fine.

But Allison would have seen him like this, and she can never see that, never, ever. Nobody can.   
Nobody will, he's so happy he was sent here, nobody will ever see him again, nobody will ever touch his hairy back and be disgusted.  
Nobody will ever touch him again.

Oh God, nobody will ever touch him again.  
He will die, and nobody will have touched him since he was 24.

  
"Watch out for threats", he will, he will be on the lookout, and he was never the lookout but Klaus couldn't have hacked this, nobody else could have hacked this, that's why Dad sent him, he needed to send his strongest, bravest, most loyal - the only one left, he couldn't have sent anyone else.

He's good. 

He's a good son, and maybe one day he'll be a little bit better, and he will push himself a little bit farther, and Dad will love him.

He's a good brother, and maybe one day Diego and Klaus and Vanya will see him again, and they will see that, and they will love him.

He's a good man, and maybe one day Allison will decide that nothing else matters more, and she will love him.

But he knows he is good, he does.  
Maybe one day he will love him.

For now, though, he looks at the Earth - and who else gets this view out of their bedroom window, how lucky he is - and he can't stop feeling he's missing out.


	14. 14. Klaus and Ben

So Ben can touch him now, and that's wonderful. 

Wait, scratch that.   
That _was_ wonderful for all of an hour, when he was a terrified child who just wanted someone to love him and Ben held him in his ghostly, surprisingly toned arms - "Do ghosts work out, Benny? Did some gym equipment die in a tragic roid rage accident, and do you have to take turns with all the roid heads who killed themselves because their balls were so tiny?", "You are such an idiot".

He fucking forgot, though, that Ben is a mean little bitch, and now he keeps poking and hitting him - "I'm delicate, Ben, I'm still recovering", "Stop being a baby, I'm barely even touching you", "You know I bruise like a peach, hands off the merchandise - if you break it you buy it", "You mean I could walk off without buying you and leave you here?", "Oh, please, where would you even go", "I don't know, Schenectady?", "Why would you even want to go there?", "I've never been", "No-one has".

He's got a couple of theories as to why Ben can touch him now - "Oh wow, more than one?", "Why's that surprising, I'm smart", "He said, while trying to lick his own elbow", "Shut up, that happened once and I was high as a kite", "Some things, once is one too many times", "Ooh, Benny thinks he's sooo funny", "Funnier than you, that's for sure", "This is abuse, Ben. You are now abusing me while I'm so frail and vulnerable."

Anyway, if _someone_ would stop interrupting him, please and thank you, he's got a couple of theories as to why Ben can touch him now, and one of them he really likes, because it requires some testing he can't wait to do - "Oh, God, this is going to get stupid, isn't it", "When has it ever?", "See, now you're provoking me, you can't say stuff like that and then complain that I'm mean to you".

So, his first theory is that he's actually dead too, and this, here, now, this is hell - "Why are you always so dramatic, how is this hell", "Let's see, a tiny one-bedroom apartment with a sister who doesn't like me and constantly plays the violin, how does she not have a million noise complaints already, and a dead brother who is a bitch", "Oh, yes, nobody has suffered more in the history of humanity, you're such a martyr", "Thank you!".

His second theory is that he's stuck somewhere in between life and death, neither here nor there, as a side-effect of dying so many times - "What, no quips for this one?", "It actually does make a very tiny little bit of sense", "I know, I'm a genius", "Very much debatable", "Very much fuck off".

His third theory is the one he likes the least, because it's not about him: Ben is evolving, somehow, he's acquiring new abilities on his own and Darwin didn't know shit - "What does Darwin even have to do with it?", "Well, it would mean that whole 'survival of the species' thing is bullshit, right, because you're evolving after you died, so no survival involved at all", "I'm surprised you even remember any of that, really", "Will you stop acting like I'm an idiot?", "Will you stop being an idiot?", "Oh my God, shut up!".

The fourth one is his favorite: he's not had anything stronger than very controlled, very measly amounts of morphine for about a month now, so maybe his forced sobriety is enhancing his powers and making Ben more and more solid - "Why is that one your favorite, I would think you would hate that? Why are you smiling like that, you look like a deranged meerkat. Will you answer me, Klaus? Why is this one your favorite?"

You see, this one is his favorite because he can test it, by getting blissfully, wonderfully un-sober and seeing if Ben can still touch him - "Please, Klaus, this is the longest you've been sober since we were 16", "I know, and it's been a fucking nightmare", "That's not the part that was a nightmare, I know you know that. Please, Klaus, don't throw it away now", "Throw away what, tell me one good thing being sober did for me", "How about you're not dead in a ditch", "We both know I'd just get up and walk it off anyway", "Klaus, please". 

So, Vanya didn't have anything at all, not even a can of paint thinner he could sniff - "Wow, that's depressing, you're such a mess", "Shut up, I'm fine, I'm great, I'm doing amazing", "Sure, you're the very picture of mental health", "I know, they use my photo in the 'before and after's in rehab", "'Before and after' the effects of meth, you mean", "Fuck you, my teeth are perfect and my skin is so smooth it makes babies cry", "Your face makes babies cry", "Your face made your mama cry", "Very mature".

His options are twofold - "Stop trying to sound clever, you're using it wrong anyway", "Go suck on a pipe, Ben!".

He's got two options: go rob a liquor store and get super smashed, or acquire some money, buy a ton of drugs and get super high.

"No comment there, Benny? Oh, are you giving me the silent treatment now. You do realize this is not punishment, right, this is a dream come true for me, my judgy Jimmy the Cricket has finally shut the fuck up", "... it's Jiminy Cricket", "Ha! Got you to speak!".

He'd really be in the mood for some MDMA, or some other party drug, really, he's not that picky, but there's still, strangely, a part of him that shrivels in horror at the thought of going out and looking for someone to fuck him - "Really, are you honestly surprised that you don't like the thought?", "A little, yeah", "I know you're not stupid, alright, I know that, so I know you didn't really think that everything's fixed and you're healed now", "But I'm fine, I'm great, I'm back to normal", "Klaus, your normal is broken to begin with", "Shut up, Ben, who asked for your opinion anyway".

Riding a dick is like riding a bike - "You don't know how to ride a bike, Luther tried to teach you and you screeched like an unhinged bat as soon as he let go", "The wobbling, Ben! Nobody told me there would be wobbling!".

If he could just finish his fucking metaphor, please - "It's a simile, not a metaphor", "Ben! Shut up!" - riding a dick is like riding a bike, and you should get back in the saddle as soon as possible - "And you're mixing your metaphors, the saddle thing is about horses", "I don't know if I'm ready to ride a horse's dick, though", "How are you even still alive, with no brain activity?", "Ben, I've been asking myself how I'm still alive for the past month."   
"I know. Sorry."   
"Whatever, I'm fine, I'm great, no need to be sorry."

So apparently he has to get fucked by a horse, and he's definitely not up for that yet - "...Sure. Let's go with that. But also, 'yet'?", "Well, I wouldn't say I'm a size queen, exactly, but I do like" - "If you finish that sentence I swear I will spend the rest of my death putting Legos in your path every time you're barefoot", "That's harsh, Ben".

Looks like it's alcohol for him, his old faithful friend, much easier to steal than drugs, much softer a comedown - "Aren't you happy, Ben, you should be happy, it's not even illegal", "I'm ecstatic, can't you tell. And stealing's illegal, by the way", "Well, if they priced it more reasonably I wouldn't have to steal it, now would I", "What would be reasonable for you, a dime?", "Make it a penny and we're in business", "Please at least be careful, don't get arrested", "I don't know why you're so down on jail, I got a roof and a bed there", "You have a roof and a bed here", "It's a couch, not a bed, and it's Vanya-sized so it's fucking tiny".

Far be it from him to complain - "Since when, you complain about everything", "I think you're confusing me with yourself, you be-tentacled whinebag of a whiny whiner", "You're a poet", "I know, I have such a way with words".

Far be it from him to complain, but he's not loving his current digs; Vanya is super awkward around him, or maybe she's just super awkward in general - "Don't be mean, she's giving you food and a place to sleep", "I'm not being mean, she's just so fucking awkward", "She's trying, ok", "I didn't mean it in a bad way, really, it's endearing, like a newborn gazelle but with very short legs", "Sure, fine. Just be nice to her", "I'm trying too, ok", "I know".

And her awkwardness is making him overcompensate, he's trying to be silly and fun, to get out of the hole he found himself in, but he feels off his game - "I'm not sure that's Vanya's fault", "Whose fault is it, then?", "I don't know, how about the lifetime of trauma?", "Trauma schmauma, I'm doing fabulous", "Again, sure you are".

So he has to get out of there, even just for a little, and get hammered; two birds with one stone, he gets to get wasted and his theory gets tested - "See, I'm even rhyming now, I'm totally doing great", "That's not even a rhyme, dummy, it would have to be 'tasted' to rhyme", "God, you never let me have any fun", "Oh, how I wish I could actually stop you",

"Wait a fucking minute, Ben, are you joking, get off!", "No way, I can actually stop you!", "Ben, let me go!", "No, you're not going anywhere", "Ben, I'm not fucking kidding, let me go, right now", "Or what?"

"Klaus, breathe, it's ok, I've let you go, it's ok. Just keep breathing, you're ok, it's ok."

Alright, so it turns out he doesn't respond well to being restrained, that's a new and exciting development.   
He never really minded being held down or tied up before, or maybe he did, but he was always able to push through it and get - "Please, don't say it, please. Stop. I'm sorry, ok, you don't need to punish me, I won't do it again. I'll only hold you when you want me to, I promise", "It's fine, Ben, I'm fine, I'm great", "Full-blown panic attack, Klaus, that's not great, that's not even fine", "Not the first, not the last, don't worry about it, I'm doing fantastic".

He's definitely going to get hammered now, he's going to get plastered and juiced and blasted and sloshed and toasted and tanked and wrecked and oiled and embalmed - "Jesus, Klaus, please not that one".

He's going to come back though, he doesn't feel like sleeping on the streets yet, not while he's drunk.  
He's going to come back, don't worry, and maybe he won't feel so self-conscious when talking to Vanya if he's barely conscious at all.  
He's going to come back, Ben, remind him to come back - "I will. Sorry".

"It's ok, I'm fine, I'm great".

"Sure, you are".


	15. 15. Vanya (vs. Klaus) and Allison (vs. Diego)

  
Something strange has been happening to her.  
Sure, it's been just a couple of days, so maybe it's too soon to worry, but the only thing she's ever had a natural talent for is worrying, so forgive her for possibly doing so prematurely.  
She knows exactly when it started, and it doesn't take a genius to figure it out, it wasn't a subtle, gradual crescendo but a thunderous fortissimo shattering the mezzo-piano of her days: the moment her brother crashlanded into her life, the meticulously crafted surface of her time has been cracking and splintering around her - see what she means? Since when does she think in muddled metaphors.

It's her perception itself of her life that is changing: when she thinks of just yesterday, some moments are thrown into sharp relief, every second accounted for - she remembers clearly and vividly every word, every sound, every scent. But then, entire lapses of time blur around the edges and if she tries to grasp them they slip through her fingers like a handful of sand.   
She can't remember which of the two used to be the norm, before.  
She feels wrong-footed, like she's two bars behind the orchestra of her life - not far enough to be completely lost, just enough that everything sounds distorted, and dissonant, and disquieting.

This morning, again: from the moment she woke up to when she made her way to her living room, her day feels like a pleasant, harmonious background accompaniment, with no extreme dynamics or sudden crashes of percussion.  
But from the moment she stepped in her living room to the minute she stepped out the door, it's a crazy, galloping dodecaphony and she can recall in startling detail every single explosion of snare drums.

  
She came in her living room and Klaus was standing at her stove, wearing her beige apron over ridiculously tight leather pants and an equally tight shirt - she thinks she could count every knob in his spine through it, if she wanted to pass some time - and she thought he looked so out of place, yet somehow like he belonged more than she ever had.

"Good morning," she said, tentative, always tentative around him - a lifetime of tentativeness.

He turned around sharply, like he forgot she even lived there, and she wouldn't be surprised if he did, or like he was caught doing something illicit, and she wouldn't be surprised if he was.

"Bonjour, ma sœur! Comment ça va? Voulez vous...coucher avec moi? Ugh, no, I meant to offer you breakfast. Why did I choose French, I don't know French."

"Did you sleep well?" She's always walked on eggshells around him, but every twenty or so there's a hidden landmine and she never knows if she'll crush him or maim herself.

"I slept like a baby, a rock, a dormouse - dormice sleep tons, right?", again, he preferred conversing with the air than with her, the fingers of his left hand fluttering like he was caressing that invisible dormouse.

"What are you making?" And that's not what she wanted to ask - for a silly, inexplicable moment she wanted to ask him if he ever sees ghosts of pets.

"You know what, I'm not sure."

"How??" And did she step on a landmine? No, he smiled, it's safe, she's safe.

"Well, ma chérie - yeah, yeah, I'll quit with the French - like all the great chefs before me I just grabbed what you had in the fridge and I let my beautiful instincts guide me!" 

She peeked in the pan, and now the smell is in her nose again - not unpleasant, just strange; eggs, avocado, butter, bacon, strawberry jam, all thrown in together and stirred into a paste. 

"I don't know if I'm hungry," don't offend, he might feel bad, he might make her feel bad, "I usually just eat a slice of toast."

"Well, but that's why you're so tiny! You need protein, Vanya, to grow big and strong - shut up, can't I worry about my tiny sister? How is that hypocritical? Oh my God, just shut the hell up for once! - not you, obviously not you, you're too quiet to begin with."

"...I'm sorry?" ...should she be?

"I can't believe how bad I'm fucking this up, Christ. Don't apologize, just sit down and eat up, I've been slaving away all morning - hush now, you buzzkill!"

She sat down, and ate up, because direct orders are to be obeyed, and she can still taste it now - the unusual mix of salty and sweet, creamy and tart.   
She didn't hate it.

"You know, Klaus, this is not that bad."

"'Not that bad', she says. I pour my soul in a pan and wait on her hand and foot and all I get is 'not that bad'!"

She almost apologized, again, but he was already looking away, something more interesting in the empty space right next to the window.

"Huh. Vanya, did you know that apparently the Romans used to eat dormice with honey?"

"... I'm not sure I ever wanted to know that."

"Right? That's so weird, why would you know that?"

She's never learnt how to do this, have breakfast small talk with her brother.   
He looked like he wasn't sure either, in fairness, and kept fidgeting with his fork.  
If she breathes deeply enough, she can still hear the ting of the tines against his plate, and it vibrates pleasantly, deep in her chest.

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, as always her body rebelling against the idea of talking during a meal. You don't talk during meals.

He stood up, gathered their dishes and mugs and took them to the sink, and she didn't even have to ask - unusual, he had never used to do anything for her, none of them had.

"Alright then, off you pop, like the breadwinner that you are. Look how modern of us, she goes to work and I look after the house, and stay pretty for her. Hop hop, klein Häschen, hop hop."

She's not stupid, she could see his intentions - he was trying to get rid of her, and the aftertaste the strawberry jam left in her mouth turns bitter now as she thinks back to it.   
She's been giving him shelter and food, tacit acceptance of all of his strangeness, she's been patient and hasn't asked once what brought him to her door, and he shoos her out of it as fast as he can?   
What does she have to do for her siblings to show her respect, why do they always act like they can walk all over her.

Ok, fine, she let him. She quickly grabbed her bag and her violin case and rushed out the door, with a hasty "See you" - she even only checked once if she had all her sheet music.

The soothing basso continuo picked up again, as soon as she got to the bus stop - until then, though, cascades of cymbals and torrents of timpani flood her, and resonate with each of her heartbeats - even now still, at the memory.

  
It's so strange, and unusual, she feels at one with the music today at rehearsal, like it flows through her fingertips effortlessly, and that has never happened before - not to her, every note is a fight normally, every chord she has to wrest into submission.   
She likes the feeling. Ease. She's not used to ease.

Today, music's her friend, and she hasn't had a friend since Ben - why does that hurt so much, she should probably take her meds when they take a break, she hasn't needed them since yesterday, but now the floods of percussion are drowning her.

She's so lost in music, in grief, she doesn't look away from her stand until Susan on the cello gasps loudly, a sob-like implosion of air. 

When she does, she wishes she hadn't, because her famous beautiful charismatic tall extraordinary sister is standing in the auditorium, looking at her with indulgence - look at little Vanya trying so hard to be special, she had to study for decades just to be decent at something.

How did she even get in?   
Oh, yeah. One sentence and her sister gets everything.

  
Allison can't wait to be done with this. She just wants to go back to her home - her real home, her husband, her daughter - and never think about any of her disaster brothers again, or at least until Diego's next phone call.

She had a fight with Patrick this morning, on the phone, because she couldn't tell him exactly when she'd be back, and she hates fighting with him - no, that's not true.   
She needs to stop lying to herself, the realization had come yesterday, unwelcome like a bad review, when Diego's thoughtlessness plunged her into a spiral of doubts about parenthood.  
She doesn't hate fighting with him, she hates fighting with him over the phone.   
Her rumors don't work over the phone.

She needs to start cutting back on them, they've been getting out of control - she will, but it's Tuesday already, so she might as well start fresh next week.   
She'll close the week out, and from next Monday she won't use rumors unless it's a life-or-death thing.   
That's the best way to start anything, fresh, new, she doesn't want to drag her rumors of yesterday into her new rumorless life.  
From next Monday, she'll only use rumors if it's important.

But she might just rumor Diego into shutting the hell up for once, because he's been grumbling about Vanya for what feels like hours - she's so done with him, God, she can't wait to be done with him.

"I'm not talking to her, I'm not seeing her, I want nothing to do with her. I'm not giving her any more material to write about."

"You said that fourteen times, Diego, I got it," she's so bored of this, and he doesn't know she can see right through his transparent anger.   
She could crush him so easily, but she won't, because she's a good person. 

She's not looking forward to seeing Vanya either, Diego doesn't seem to get that - he thinks he's the only one who was hurt, as if his secrets and stories were the only ones sacred.   
But she's a public figure, and so many people read Vanya's book just to get dirt on her, she should be the one holding the biggest grudge. She isn't, because she's a good person. 

She will swallow her hurt, be nice to her sister, pretend like they're still Three and Seven, like they still can be friends - maybe they can, if Allison forgives her, and she does, because she's a good person.  
Rumors don't make her a not-good person, Patrick.

Yeah, so, the fight on the phone might not have been just about when she'll be back.

She wants to find Klaus, make sure he's ok, tear him a new one for scaring her, fly back home, get her marriage back on track, go back to her life. She was happy with her life, now everything's getting twisted and ruined like a film reel left in the projector too long, burning and melting and deforming along the edges.

God, she's so done with this.

Diego's car is as rundown as his shithole apartment - she's pretty sure she heard him call it 'den', yesterday, and just, no - but she's given up on this skirt when that homeless guy wiped his hands on it, she's not even sure what he wiped them of, so she doesn't mind sitting in it anymore. 

"Vanya's not gonna know shit, when has she ever known shit," and isn't he just a ball of sunshine this morning.

"How are you in an even worse mood than yesterday, Diego, you get to just sit in your shitty car and wait for me to do the work today."

"One, my car is perfectly fine - apart from that mirror, ok, but who needs mirrors anyway, I can see just fine from the window. Two, oh, such hard work, going into one theater and asking one person, talk to me after you run around the city three fucking times."

"Did you just itemize two things? Do you seriously need a list to remember two things at once?" 

"Three, fuck off."

"Such a prince." 

He's infuriating, she's infuriated around him, and she can read him like a fucking book.   
He thinks he's protected himself planting landmines all around, he doesn't realize he's left flags everywhere he buried them, so she can see them and trigger them from afar because the explosions are fun.

She's had more conversations with him in the past two days than with anyone other than Patrick in years, and she can't stand that he knows exactly which buttons to push to get a reaction out of her, still.   
It's not the same as what she's doing to him, it isn't the same at all - it's not her fault he's that easy to anger, she's just having some fun with it.

He's quiet now, broody, projecting the carefully drawn image of himself he tries so desperately to portray - the tortured hero, lost in thought, quietly bemoaning the state of the world.   
As if he doesn't love having someone to beat up, to feel morally superior to.   
God, she can't stand him this morning, why is she so angry at him, she's a good person. 

  
They found Vanya's orchestra easily enough - Diego knew the name to the letter ("I thought you didn't want anything to do with her," "I don't, I only know the name so I can avoid going to one of her concerts by accident," "Yeah, because you spend every Friday night at the opera," "Oh, shut it.") and it was easy enough to go to a tourist information point and ask for the St. Pluvium Chamber Orchestra. 

It's easy enough to convince the usher to let her in - she doesn't even have to rumor him, he's a fan and she gives him her autograph, goes on and on about how much she loves music and has no time to go to any concerts, you can imagine how busy her life is, so if she could just sneak in and listen to the rehearsals it would be wonderful of him and he would make her day.

Standing in the aisle is easy enough, looking at Vanya play, so lost in music she hasn't noticed her.   
She has actual talent, she has worked for her skills, they weren't a gift she just learnt how to hone - and she's good. Good enough to make of her passion a job, without any rumors to help her.   
She's good, Vanya is a good person.

Then Vanya sees her, and it's not easy at all. 

What does she say? She wishes she had thought up a script for this.

She could let them finish, it would give her some more time to conjure one up - and as an added bonus, she knows Diego outside is getting more and more pissed the longer she spends in here. 

So she will wait, until Vanya is done.   
She doubts Vanya knows anything anyways - she will never admit it, because that would mean telling Diego he's right - and what's the rush, after all. 

She can't wait to be done with this, but she'll have to talk to Patrick when she's back home, so it's better if it's after next Monday.   
She'll be a good person, after next Monday.


	16. 16. Ben, Klaus, and Vodka - an Interlude

He's finally got some power - so of course Klaus wants to take it away.  
Klaus can't have him being a person, he needs Ben as a faithful shadow that can only interact with the world through him, because that means Klaus is important.  
Maybe that's too harsh? But no, why else would Klaus be so anxious to see how he can stop Ben from touching him.

"Come on, Ben, try to touch me now!"

"No, thank you, you're covered in puke."

Truth is, even without the puke, Ben is terrified that he will reach out and his hands will be air again; he'd rather keep the illusion that this newfound power is up to him for as long as he can.

Klaus has already killed a full bottle of vodka, and he's now working on the second - he revels in debasing himself, making himself as disgusting as possible.   
When Ben feels generous, he thinks it's a self-defense mechanism; after all, if you ruin yourself no-one else will be able to.   
When Ben is bitter and angry, as he is now - he's big enough to admit his faults - he thinks it's because Klaus has never been the best at anything, so he learned he'd get more attention by being the worst than by just being ok.

"Ben, no matter how hard you stare at me, I'm not gonna catch on fire."

"The second you light up a cigarette you will, you're so soaked in booze."

"Ooooh, think I can come back from that too?"

"You're so stupid, I can't believe how stupid you are."

He's not in the mood for playing, at all.   
He thought he could help Klaus heal and by consequence make an impact on his own existence, and instead he just gave him another distraction, another excuse not to think.

"C'mon Benny, put away the laser eyes of judgment, you're harshing my buzz."

"Good. I hope it's harsh. Don't you think you've had enough now, you can barely stand."

"Don't need legs to drink."

"You do realize you just sat in a pool of someone's urine, right?"

"Maybe I pissed myself, what is it to you?"

"Gross. That is gross, Klaus, you're pathetic."

"Whatever, Ben, shut it. It's my piss, and I'll sit in it if I want to." 

He's so disappointed - he's always so disappointed. It looked like things might change, for once, and instead Klaus is still the same broken mess of a person. 

"Did you really piss yourself?"

"...no?"

"Ugh, I'm so done with you, I'm leaving."

"Such cruel and unusual punishment, how will I enjoy my drink without a disapproving ghoul looming over my shoulder."

He's not going to leave, he needs to remind Klaus to go back to Vanya's.  
Also, where could he go. He gets a very short leash.

"Why are you still here, I thought you were leaving."

"Like everyone else leaves you, because they can't stand to be around you?"

"Wow, Ben, you're a bitch."

"Wow, Klaus, you're a mess."

Here's what Klaus doesn't want to understand: Ben grew up in that house too.  
Ben died young, and he died violently.  
Ben has been watching a brother he fiercely loves fiercely destroy himself for ten years.  
Ben had to watch that very same brother be tortured and murdered over and over and over again, and every time hurt almost as much as his own death - not just as much, nothing will ever hurt that much.

Klaus could talk about it with whoever he pleased - Ben can't talk about it with anyone but Klaus.

Klaus won't talk about it at all.

How is it fair, he would be so much better.

  
Ah, he loves Vodka.   
Rum's good for a rumble, Whiskey is always up for some fun, Gin he can go to when he feels maudlin, and Tequila is his wingman when he wants to get fucked - but Vodka, Vodka is his first love.

He met Vodka when he was twelve, after the first night in the maus - no need to go there, no need to think about that.   
He was awake in the dead of night (ha, dead), and he quietly snuck down to the living room (ha, living).  
There she was, coyly sitting at the corner of dad's bar, her friends having left her out alone, all by herself. They had all gone back home, locked themselves safe in their cabinet, and Vodka was waiting for someone to notice her, to see just how special she was.  
Klaus took a look at her, and knew they would be forever.   
He doesn't remember his first kiss with a girl, or a boy, but he'll never forget his first kiss with Vodka - the warmth, the fire thawing him out from inside after what felt like a lifetime of cold.

Sure, he's not been monogamous; he fell in love just as hard with Marijuana, Cocaine and Ecstasy, had some tumultuous, ill-fated affairs with Heroin and Ketamine, but Vodka understands, and forgives, after all, she's not faithful either.   
He's met so many others who love her just as wholly, who devoted their entire lives to her.

They have an agreement, Vodka and him, he'll always come back and she'll always take him back.

Vodka's never looked at him with big, wet, disappointed eyes, and she's never called him gross or pathetic; Vodka's love has never come with a heaping side of recriminations, has never been conditional on his changing himself to become more worthy of it.

He holds her in his hands now, gently and carefully, don't want to waste any drops; she deserves his full attention, after so long apart. And maybe he's pissed himself, maybe it's someone else's - can't say he cares, not now that he's so warm and loved.

Ben can be angry and let down as he wants, Vodka still likes him, Vodka still wants him.   
She'll always want him, and he'll always come back.

  
It's hours of that, in broad daylight; a skinny, bedraggled man crouched down in a puddle of piss, biting insults at the air and cooing softly at a bottle of vodka.  
Even other skinny, bedraggled men crouched down in puddles of piss give him a wide berth.

In a few hours, he will stand up and stagger to a place he can't call home; as if guided by an invisible hand he will not get lost even once.


	17. 17. Diego and Diego (or, the Mind of a Mastermind)

  
"You're gonna stop being a pussy and you're gonna get out of the car and go into that theater, because you've never been one to shy away from the action.

There's no fucking action, it's just talking to Vanya. It's not like Allison is in danger, c'mon.

That isn't the point - the point is you don't sit and wait in a car for someone else to do the asskicking, you're a badass and Vanya can't hurt you.

I'm not scared she will hurt me, are you kidding, I'm not a wuss. I'm just fucking angry at her and I don't want to see her.

I know, and you're right, a hundred percent, you're completely in the right here and she was so wrong.

I know, she was.

But still, you dragged yourself all over the city to find your idiot brother three times now, what if Allison finds him by just going into a theater and you're not even there when she does.

She won't, Vanya knows shit, Klaus would have never gone to her, he's not that much of an idiot.

Isn't he, though?

Ok, yeah, he is, but he's not that mean, he wouldn't go to her just to make sure I wouldn't find him.

Wouldn't he, though?

Nah, he wouldn't. Would he?

You fucked up, baby, you fucked up big and sounded like you were mad at him for surviving - if you were him you would have gone where he never would have set foot.

So therapy?

You're funny, why do none of your siblings think that you're funny?

They're idiots.

That's true.

So I should go in there and act like Vanya's not an asshole?

Hell no, you should go in there and be angry as shit, yell at her, make her feel as tiny as she made you feel when she told the world all your secrets.

Allison will call me a dick.

And since when have you cared about what Allison calls you?

Never, I don't care what any of my stupid brothers and sisters say about me.

Right, that's why what Vanya wrote made you so angry.

Whose side are you on, here?

I know, it wasn't the same - Eudora looked at you like your face hurt her for weeks after the book came out.

I don't want to go in there, though.

You've done so many things you didn't want to do, what's one more. C'mon, Diego, just get out and get in and get out again, it's that easy and fast. You go in, glare at her, get her to say she hasn't seen your moron brother, get out and go back to interrogating junkies.

Ten minutes. If Allison is not out in ten minutes, I'll go in.

  
What the fuck, what's taking so long??

Maybe something happened, maybe they're in trouble, you should go in and make sure.

What could have happened, come on, nothing ever happens in theaters.

Tell that to Abraham Lincoln.

Seriously, do I have a missing sister now, on top of two missing and one dead brother? It's going to be just me, Luther and Vanya before you know it, and Jesus Christ what a nightmare that sounds like.  
Not that I like either Allison or Klaus, really.

You're such a liar, you like Klaus well enough - you were best friends once.

Yeah, and then his best friend became drugs, so I don't like him all that much anymore.

You should really go in though, what if something went wrong, what if they need help.

Allison can handle herself, I don't need to save her.

You still should, though.

Yeah, I should. I'll give them another ten minutes, if Allison is not out in ten minutes I go in and kick ass.

  
Ok, it's been two hours. Get out of the car and go see if your sister's been abducted by aliens.

But if she has been, what can I do, I can't even find one brother in one city, if Allison has been abducted by aliens Luther is probably the best one to handle it.

Luther can't handle shit better than you!

I just meant because he's already in space!

Oh, ok, fine then. 

Look, here's Allison coming out now, finally!

Oh shit, Vanya is with her.

Duck!

Fuck. Why did you make me do this, they've totally seen me, and Allison knows where I'm parked anyway, now I look like a dumbass and I'm really uncomfortable.

I didn't make you do shit, you dumbass.

Oh, shut up. Asshole."


	18. 18. Allison and Vanya

"Hi Vanya", an unexpected rush of warmth.

"What are you doing here?", a predictable wave of resentment.

"Can't I come visit my sister?" Allison lies, and she hugs her. Vanya is rigid in her arms for a long second before returning the hug with stiff arms.

"You can, but you haven't in ten years," she should probably let it go already, that's what she's always done, but she's really annoyed - rehearsal was going so well until Allison broke her trance.

"I'm sorry, I've been so busy - but I can't wait to catch up, I have so many pictures of Claire to show you!" 

"Did you get my flowers and card?"

"Of course I did, and I loved them" - she didn't, she hates carnations - "didn't you get my thank you note?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot, sorry" - she didn't forget, she just thought her assistant had sent it.  
"I didn't mean to sound like I'm not happy to see you, sorry, I just feel a little out of sorts these days," conciliatory now, reel back the resentment - it's not Allison's fault that she's never been able to measure up to her, after all.

"Oh no, I hope you're not getting sick!"  
Allison feels like she's stuck in a slow-moving car crash, how is it so hard to talk to her sister. She got back into the usual rhythm of her back-and-forth with Diego within seconds of seeing him, why is there no rhythm with Vanya.

"I don't think I am, it's just been a weird couple days," for some reason, Vanya doesn't want to tell her about Klaus - maybe it's because for once she has a secret, something her sister doesn't have.

Allison looks at her with eyes Vanya can't decipher, and why are all her siblings so hard for her to read. Why are the only two she was fluent in dead, or vanished.

"Would you maybe like to go for a coffee, or lunch?" she extends like an olive branch, it's really difficult not to feel uncomfortable when her sister towers over her by a full head - maybe if they were sitting down she'd feel less unsettled - but she knows that she won't, she's been sitting with Klaus the past few days and he's been unsettling all the same.

It's a split-second decision: "I would love to." Allison isn't sure if she really would love to, or if the prospect of Diego fuming in his crap car is sweetening the deal.

They leave the theater together.  
Diego widens his eyes when he sees her, his face the very picture of impatience, only to quickly duck out of view when Vanya steps out too, and Allison can't hold back a chuckle.   
He's such a dumbass - she doesn't hate him that much anymore.

"I know a café that's pretty nice, I usually have lunch there," "That sounds lovely, and I've gotta say I'm getting a little hungry now, too" - she did stick around until the end of rehearsal, it's now a few minutes past one; she only had some yogurt and müsli this morning, no minestrone coffee today.  
Diego is going to be ravenous, she could be nice and bring him a sandwich when she's done with Vanya. 

"So, how long are you visiting for?", how does one small talk? 

"I'm not entirely sure, I booked a hotel room for a week but I might have to extend it - I hope I don't have to, though."

"Did something happen?"

"What makes you think that?" - she's not telling Vanya right away because she doesn't want to ruin her appetite before lunch, that's the only reason. It's not because she's so used to excluding her from anything serious that it's second nature. It's not.

She can't help it, Vanya is worried. "It's just strange you would come visit after so long, and not even have plans - you always have plans. Did something happen with Patrick?" - "No, Patrick's perfect, everything's perfect. Look, let's have lunch and catch up, then we'll talk about why I'm here." 

"So something did happen." 

"Yeah, alright, something happened. Not to me though, don't worry about me. Claire's growing up so fast, I have so many stories!"

"Who did it happen to, if it wasn't you? Last I knew, Luther was too far away for you being here to make sense. Is Pogo alright? Diego?"

"They're all doing well, Vanya, don't worry - at least, I think Pogo's fine, I know for sure Diego is. As he's always been, he's a belligerent asshole, but health-wise he's ok." And she noticed, all right. She noticed Vanya didn't mention Klaus. They might be on the right track, should she ask right away or pretend for a while longer that they're friends?

"So you've been hanging out with Diego?" , And of course, her sister would spend time with a brother she dislikes before she even remembers to come say hello to her. 

"Don't even get me started on Diego, he's been such a pain - he's not changed at all. How are you, though, anything new and exciting?"

"No. The usual."

"Oh. Good?"

"Yeah, good. Please just tell me what's happened, you can't hint something's wrong and then not tell me what it is." 

"Ok, look. Here goes. Have you, by any chance, run into Klaus in the past couple days?" Bite the bullet, rip off the bandaid, grit your teeth, why are there so many idioms for pushing through painful things.

"Why?" - she still doesn't want to tell her, she wants something all to herself, even if that something is not really something she wants at all.

"We've been going around, looking for him, because something bad happened and he disappeared right afterwards, so we're getting worried. And you know how Diego gets when he's worried, he's furious."

"Allison, for God's sake, stop beating around the bush and just tell me what happened!" And she's getting angry now, wow, she can't remember the last time she was angry.

"Ok. Ok. How do I do this, Jesus, how did Diego do this." How did Diego do any of it, she can't fathom - she's absolutely going to bring him a sandwich.

"There was a monster," Allison starts, like she would start a fairytale for Claire.  
"There was a monster, who took people and tortured them to death - you might have seen it in the newspaper about a month ago, I'm not sure, I wasn't paying attention at the time. He was taking the homeless, the junkies, the prostitutes - anyone society wouldn't have seen missing," Vanya knows, all of a sudden, where this is going, and she doesn't want Allison to go on - but she needs Allison to go on, to finish, to make it real.

"He took Klaus. He had Klaus for days, he's dead now, Diego killed him. But he had Klaus for days, he played with him for days. Diego found him, and he killed the guy, but he had Klaus for days." She feels sick, she's going to bring Diego some chips and a soda too. 

"Allison, oh my God." The floor is dropping from under her feet, Vanya is barely balancing on the edge, on the verge of a precipice. The world feels like a wall of sound closing in on her.

"I know. He had Klaus for days, and then Klaus was in the hospital for a long time - almost a month, Vanya.   
I got the hospital bill thinking it was just the usual, and there were ventilators, feeding tubes, surgeries I had never even heard of before. I flew over as soon as I got it, I didn't know what had happened.   
I went to Diego's, but he hasn't seen Klaus since he was released from the hospital and we have no idea where he is, we have no idea, for all we know someone else took him, and has had him for days, and I haven't seen him in ten years, Vanya.   
If I never see him again, the last time I saw him will be the day I left, and I was the one who left. If I never see him again, I will have chosen never to see him again ten years ago, and that's not why I left, I never meant to not see you guys ever again," and she feels tears filling her eyes now, for the first time, she's not angry or scared, she's just so sad.

"Allison, Allison, it's ok, he's fine - he's been staying with me for the past couple days, he's at my place, he's safe. Nobody else took him, he came to me - he's safe, he's ok. Weird, but when hasn't he been, right?   
He cooked eggs and jam for me this morning, he slept on my couch and his hair was a mess, he was wearing my apron. He's fine - do you want to come to my home and see him?" It might be the longest sentence she's said in years. 

Allison can't hold back, not now that she's all of a sudden a sister again - she hugs Vanya, again. Vanya is rigid in her arms for a brief second before returning the hug with gentle arms.

"Vanya, you have no idea - please, yes, can we come back to yours, can we see him?"

"What do you mean 'we'?"

"Diego's with me, we've been looking for him together, Diego will want to come with," he's going to be so pissed she was right, and so hurt to have to spend time with Vanya - Allison will bring him a cookie, too.

"He won't want to have anything to do with me, Allison", Diego was always nice to her, distant, but nice - not after her book. She got a drunk phone call after her book, Diego telling her in detail how much of a jerk she was, men grunting in the background. She knows she hurt him, and she knows he heals hurt with rage. But she's angry at him too, because what right does _he_ have to tell _her_ _she_ doesn't have the right to tell _her_ own story.

"Trust me, Vanya, he will, as soon as he knows Klaus is with you. Can we maybe grab lunch to go and get to your place right away?" She can't wait to be done with this - she can't wait to see Klaus, and hug him, and be done with this weight on her chest. 

"Let's get this over with then, I won't be able to eat anyway if I know I'm about to see Diego."

Allison pays for them - Vanya puts up some token resistance, but she doesn't mind, it's nice for her siblings to do something for her for once - she buys an extra sandwich, a cookie and she gets weirdly excited when she sees she can get something called a 'superfood shake'.  
Diego's going to love it - she doesn't hate him at all.

When they get back to the car, Diego is somehow still half-laid on his seat, and she hopes for his back's sake he hasn't been there the whole time. She knocks on the window and he startles so hard he hits his head on the car door, and she chuckles again.   
He's such a dumbass, and she loves him so much.

She doesn't look forward to telling him they're going to Vanya's, but she does look forward to telling him why - she hopes she can get him to say she was right - and she's surprised to realize she actually looks forward to giving him his silly superfood shake even more.

They're going to be ok - it's all going to be ok.   
They're about to go to Vanya's, and they're about to see Klaus; four of them, together, for the first time in so long - the world might just end.


	19. 19. Ben

When they were 9, Pogo made them read The Three Musketeers, translated because Pogo was kind like that, for their World Literature lessons - dad always thought it was important to be as well-versed in foreign cultures as in methods of incapacitating an enemy, or strategies for infiltrating a building, or recognizing criminal activity and responding to it. 

Number One read it diligently, from top to bottom, but was so eager to impress Pogo that he fumbled all the answers to his questions and sounded like he hadn't understood a single word of it.

Number Two immediately fell in love with d'Artagnan, and skipped all the parts without him; he would still have known how to answer the questions Pogo threw at him, d'Artagnan is in most of the book anyway, but he couldn't get his mouth past the D.

Number Three refused to keep reading as soon as she realized the only woman relevant to the story was a villain, and died; she just stared at Pogo with eyes full or betrayal, knowing that with four words she could get him to ask someone else.

Number Four skimmed through it the night before lesson, yet somehow answered everything right; maybe the ghost of Dumas was in class that day, maybe just someone who had read and loved it before dying.

Number Five, Number Six, and Number Seven, though, adored it. They had fun with the swashbuckling, but they lived for the political messages - partly because they knew the rest of their siblings hadn't caught them.  
They answered all of Pogo's questions and offered additional insight, finishing each other's thought processes and debating each other on them - Pogo was thrilled, that's how any good lesson on literature should go.

They had savoured each page, had met up in the library just to talk about it, and had decided unanimously they were the three musketeers - none of them would have wanted to be d'Artagnan, not when Two had so clearly seen himself there.   
Five was Athos, the most distinguished and cultured; Six was Aramis, the most secretive and mysterious; and Seven was Porthos, because neither of the others wanted to be him and she never told them she didn't want either.

They would secretly go on imagined adventures, roam the house like they were exploring the dungeons of ancient French castles, swordfight with broomsticks in the attic - for 30 minutes a week, every week, never less than that. Never more, either.  
But that opened the floodgates to a pastime dad was more tolerant of: reading together.   
They would choose a book each week, on rotation, read and discuss it together - Vanya would find out years later grown ups still do it too, but she would have no interest in doing it with anyone else.  
If dad found them in the library, talking about the books they had read, he would just order them to keep their voice down; they would not get punished for reading the way One and Three would get punished for playing loud music and dancing, or Two and Four for going on rambunctious romps in the garden.  
Reading was safe, and it was the best - a gateway to every and any world and time, a way to get out of the house without actually leaving it.

One, Two, Three and Four, all funhouse mirror images of each other distorted in different ways, gravitated towards one another either in kinship or spite, sometimes both at once; Five, Six and Seven had their own little club, closer than anyone else. They loved all their siblings, of course, but they liked each other best.

When Five decided to take his roaming of space and time from the bookshelves to real life, Ben and Vanya kept their book meetings going for a couple of years, but without anyone to antagonize them and challenge their interpretations they found themselves always agreeing, and that grew unsatisfactory quickly. 

By the time Ben died, they had not met up to discuss a book in two years; Ben regrets that more than anything else, now that he can't possibly talk about books with anyone. The only book Klaus read recently was Vanya's, and neither of them has any interest in discussing it.  
Books are the only thing that still gives him some life to live, if only in his own head - Vanya's book forced him to relive his own, and that is not an escape at all, that's just a relic of everything he lost and everything he never had to begin with.

Seeing Vanya again reminded him what it was like to spend time with a sibling he likes, not only loves; as much as he disagreed with her writing that book, he doesn't hold it against her. Sometimes he thinks that if he still had hands, he would also write a scathing review of dad, their family, Klaus.   
He doesn't think he would publish it, but in fairness he was never starved for attention - he would have much rather been unremarkable than monstrous. 

He'd have so many things to write about Klaus, he can hear the narrator in his head: "and so the drunken mess dragged himself through the streets, soaked in his pee and vomit, mumbling about vodka. The other rejects of society looked at him askance, disgusted by his very presence, just like everyone else before them".   
But the narrator sounds a lot like dad, so he would never publish it - those thoughts are for Ben's ears usually, in moments of extreme bitterness, and for Klaus's ears sometimes, in moments of particular messiness.

They've made it to Vanya's house, Klaus surprisingly following his directions, and Ben's even managed to convince him to shower and change clothes - he'll have to borrow something from Vanya, and Ben's looking forward to seeing him in a shapeless oversized shirt, and any pair of leggings with enough of a stretch to cover his legs.   
He's forced to stand vigil outside the shower, because his ridiculous brother might manage to drown himself if Ben is not careful, and how sad is it that he's grown so accustomed to the sight of his brother's naked ass, how horrible.

He's not going to try touching him again until he's sobered up - Ben is already enjoying the hangover he'll get to watch - but then he's going to sit on him and stop him from going out to get ruined again.   
He doesn't even give a shit if Klaus panics again, he knows he promised, but it's ok if it's for Klaus's own good - if it happens to benefit Ben too, that's just a side bonus.   
No, Ben is not like the rest of his siblings, Ben's better, he won't make their same mistakes: he can admit to himself that his first goal is to keep himself tangible, the side bonus is Klaus not dying of alcohol poisoning, or overdosing on the streets.  
It's not like it's going to stick, after all, unlike Ben's death, that one stuck.   
Why does Klaus get to live, and live, and live again and again, no matter how many mistakes he makes, and Ben got just the one shot. 

Klaus couldn't fit in any of Vanya's pants, so now he's sleeping curled up on the couch wearing a plaid shirt that barely reaches past his ass - thank God he found some clean(ish) underwear stuffed in the pocket of his coat with a few stolen packets of string cheese.  
His bare legs are bony and surprisingly hairy. 

Ben hopes that when Vanya comes back she'll make tons of noise, wake him up and give him a headache - Ben hopes he wakes up feeling like a skunk died in his mouth.  
Ben hopes he wakes up, every time Klaus falls asleep he's terrified he won't wake up, and will sever his last tie with the world. 

So Ben, to kill time and not think about how time killed him, does what he always does when he's invisible to every soul: he snoops.   
He's not too proud of it, and he prefers to think of it as investigating rather than snooping, but what else can a ghost do when they can't even properly haunt anyone.   
If only he could reliably touch the world around him, he could have some fun messing with people - just moving everything slightly to the left, or opening cracks in each door someone else closes, or pushing glasses off tables, like a mischievous cat.  
But most of the time his hands make no change in the world, and he's left to just watch, and listen.

He's heard so many whispered fights between lovers in crowded spaces, he's seen so many children furtively eat dirt while their parents are distracted, he's witnessed so many awkward stumbles and slips that people thought went unnoticed.  
He has learned so much about people through quiet, invisible observation - that's how he learned Vanya's address too, peeking over the shoulder of a food delivery man, burning with curiosity and envy for complete strangers' food orders.  
If only, one day, he could put into practice all the theory he's learned, and get to interact with someone who is not a living trainwreck.

He dons his invisible musketeer hat and searches around Vanya's apartment for clues and adventures, desperate to understand a sister he once knew like the back of his hand.  
It's a modest apartment, sparse, but lived-in; unlike Diego's bunker, there's no childhood memorabilia, no trace of the life they once led.   
Good, he thinks, Vanya deserves to move on.

There's not a single memento of him, though, and that pains him - he thought she'd remember him, honor his memory, leave out some marshmallow and peanut butter sandwiches for him, too.   
Maybe she's moved on too much, maybe they all have, except Klaus, his sole, constant companion.   
Maybe if he left Klaus would move on too, and become an actual person for it.  
Maybe it's Ben who should move on.  
But, as soon as he thinks that, he's overwhelmed by a wave of fear so strong he knows it's not right, not yet, possibly not ever. He can't leave, he can't.  
Who would tell Klaus when he's being a mess if he leaves, who would hold him to high enough standards to at least try to stop him from complete destruction, who would make sure he eats, sometimes, and not spend all his money on drugs.   
Klaus likes to remind Ben that he needs him, that Ben wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for him - Ben knows the opposite is true.

Ben knows, deep down, even dead he's more useful than Klaus.  
Ben also knows, deeper down still, that knowledge makes him a horrible person.

Still a better one than Klaus, though, so it's ok.


	20. 20. Diego, and Vanya, and Allison

  
Of course.   
Of fucking course, Allison was right, and now he has Vanya in his backseat sitting quietly as a mouse, despite the daggers he's throwing at her with his eyes in the rearview mirror. He never misses, how is she not getting hit by his eye-daggers.  
She's only speaking to tell him where and when to turn, guiding him to her apartment where his asshole dick brother is about to get his ass kicked.   
Stupid Klaus, going to Vanya to escape him, why would he do that - to escape him, sure, fine.   
Alright, it was a surprisingly good escape strategy and if it weren't for Allison he wouldn't have been found.   
And isn't that just a kick in the balls, on top of everything.  
If it weren't for Allison, he wouldn't have found him.   
Stupid Allison, sitting in the passenger seat looking like the cat who ate the canary, she always has to be right, doesn't she. At least she's not sitting on a plastic bag today, that's mighty generous of her.  
Fuck Allison - ok, the shake was good, he'll give her that, and he had really been starving.

  
Diego can glower at her all he wants, she doesn't feel intimidated at all for the first time in her life; she feels useful.  
He can't throw her out of the car, not if he wants to get to Klaus, he needs her - she's never felt needed before, not by him, and she'd be lying if she said she doesn't like the feeling.   
She's not going to apologize to Diego for living her life and writing about it - maybe if he hadn't been so aggressive she might have apologized for writing about his, but if he wants to pretend he's just angry she'll treat him like he is.   
So she's angry at him too, he can't treat her like this just because she's always taken this treatment before.  
No sir, if Diego thinks she'll be meek and nice, and forgive him for all the crap he said to her that time on the phone, he's wrong, he's so wrong - he has no idea how different she feels, these days.  
Screw Diego - ok, she might feel a little bit bad that she's hurt him, but she'll never tell him, not until he admits she had the power to hurt him.

  
They're both so funny, sending venomous glares at each other through the rearview mirror, she finds them both so endearing she keeps having to swallow her giggles.  
She's in such a good mood right now, she's been in such a good mood for the past hour.   
She's so curious to see what Klaus looks like, if he's learned to do his own eyeliner or he still looks like a raccoon with a secret.  
She can't wait for Klaus to see her in person, to see how adult she is, how successful, and maybe decide he wants to be just as put together and accomplished as well. Maybe she can save him, just by virtue of having saved herself.  
Nobody has to know her marriage is falling apart in LA, as soon as she's back she will fix things, and she will be happy with herself again.

  
'Turn left here' she says, not even a please or a thank you, how rude and entitled - as rude and entitled as airing all his dirty, humiliating laundry for the world to examine, to judge him and pity him by.  
How dare she act like she did nothing wrong, he's angrier at her than at Allison now.   
Always quiet, nice, accommodating little Vanya - yeah right. A fucking snake in the fucking grass, just waiting for his life to be taking a shape he likes before striking and ruining everything.   
If Eudora hadn't known just how broken he is maybe he would have told her, and she would have learned that he trusted her enough to tell her, and she would have stayed. It's all Vanya's fault, she ruined his life.  
Fuck Vanya - ok, he had plenty of chances to talk to Eudora before the book, fine, Vanya might not have done it on purpose.

  
What is so funny, is _she_? Is her anger so ridiculous Allison needs to poorly disguise her smiles? It's a wonder she ever made it as an actress, when she's so bad at hiding her mirth.   
But maybe it's not a wonder at all, Allison's always been great at lying and pretending she was better than everyone - most of all her.  
Also, it's no secret Allison has an ace in the hole, magic words that get her whatever she wants - she's never had to struggle to be better than someone else, she could just convince everyone that she is.  
Allison's never had to work, really work, for anything in her life, how disgustingly lazy and lucky, she wouldn't want to be like that and yet she envies it so much at the same time.  
Screw Allison - ok, she gives really good hugs and she felt so safe in her arms, it was so nice to have a sister for a few minutes.

  
Klaus will jump up when he sees her, and hug her, and tell her he missed her so much - he will ask to see pictures of Claire, he will ask if Claire likes the teddy bear he sent. She won't tell him she threw it away because it had clearly come from a dumpster and was covered in cigarette burns, she will say Claire loves it and sleeps with it.   
They will fall right back into their friendship - as it was when they were sixteen, before he was broken and lost.  
She will fix him, she will make him a good person like her - they will become good people together, like they would have if he hadn't ruined everything by ruining himself.  
This time when she goes back home she will call them, and write, and she won't let her siblings slip unnoticed through her cracks again - she will notice, she will be prepared for the rush of love that fills her, sometimes, when she's around them.   
Look how silly they both are right now, so angry at each other they can't see they're both just so hurt.

  
Klaus's got some explaining to do, oh yeah, he's got heaps of explaining.   
First of all, he has not forgotten the mystery of how Klaus survived, and he'll be damned if he lets it go - he would have made a fucking awesome detective, alright, he will figure this shit out.   
Then, he needs to explain why the fuck he trusts Vanya more than him - he's the one who saved Klaus's worthless skinny ass, he's the one who's been checking up on him regularly, offering him a shower and some food every time he found him looking dead and smelling worse.  
And finally, Klaus needs to explain why he didn't understand he was offering him a place to stay and a brother's love without him having to say it, since when has Klaus needed to have him spell things out.  
Fuck Klaus - ok, how could he have known, for real, nothing he said even came close to what he meant to say.

  
Klaus brought them both back in her life, why did he decide to drag her into his mess. He had never included her in anything before, why this.   
Why did he come to her after something so horrible, and to add insult to injury didn't even trust her enough to tell her how horrible it had been.   
Why would Klaus act like everything's normal, and cook her weird stuff for breakfast - she hated that strawberry jam with the bacon, it was awful. She lied this morning, ok, like he's been lying to her the whole time by refusing to tell her what happened.  
Now she looks like a naïve child who can't even tell when her brother was tortured, and Diego and Allison have an even lower opinion of her.  
Screw Klaus - ok, fine, she understands not being able to talk about something traumatic, it took her years before she could put her childhood in words.

  
Klaus will tell her she looks fabulous, and he will marvel at how flawless her nails are and ask her to do his, and she will take him shopping with her because he will tell her she looks amazing in everything she tries on.   
Klaus will be like he was when they were kids, he will have bounced back from this healthier than ever, and she will take him to her hotel room so Diego can go back to his hole and Vanya can have some peace and quiet - he will stay with her for a couple of days.  
Tomorrow is Wednesday, so they'll sit on her California King bed, order room service and tell each other secrets - there's so many she wants to tell him, so many over ten years.  
And his stories won't be terrifying, he'll tell her about all the hot men who would sell a kidney for him, and how they dote on him while he doesn't care about them outside of his bed. She will let him tell her about all the hot women who look at him like he's hung the moon too, this time, she knows now what sexuality is.   
She'll ask him if he's bi or pan, she never asked him before and regrets it.  
She'll tell him about Patrick, and maybe she'll tell him that they've been fighting because of her rumors - she knows Klaus won't judge her, Klaus knows what it's like to love something even when it's so bad for you.   
She'll tell him sometimes she still thinks about Luther, sometimes when they're in bed she closes her eyes and pretends Patrick's hair is blonder, and his shoulders are wider, and she comes harder than ever but then feels dirtier than ever too. And Klaus won't judge her, Klaus knows what it's like to love someone even when it's so wrong for you.

  
There Klaus is, finally, sleeping on the couch with his feet hanging off the edge, half naked, wearing an old shirt of Vanya's and nothing else - hopefully some underwear, that shirt is _not_ long enough to cover everything not one of them wants to see.

He looks peaceful, like he's having a pleasant dream for once - well, he's about to wake up to four pairs of dark eyes fixed on him, and they will all have expressions so similar he will wonder for a second if they weren't all blood related after all.


	21. 21. Klaus and Everyone

  
Christ almighty, he was not expecting to wake up to a fucking audience.   
Not that he minds an audience, generally, but he prefers to be conscious for it, so he can give them the impression he wants them to have of him; it's disconcerting to be stared at while he's asleep.

"Enjoying the view, guys? I get it, it's wondrous - my ass is a work of the gods themselves," normal, act normal, like he's not thrown at all by a brother he doesn't really want to see right now and two sisters - wait, Allison? What is she doing here? "Wait, Allison?! What are you doing here, are they finally doing your biopic and you knew no-one else has the range it takes to play me? Is this my big Hollywood break?"

It's a fucking explosion of noise, his three living siblings all talking over each other with anxious, raised voices, even Vanya, good God, what is happening. He stood up too fast, and now everything's spinning - oh, no, that was not a good move.

Ben looks at him, amused - "Are you still drunk, Klaus? I do hope you're sobering up, so the yelling can really have its fullest effect."

"Nothing a little hair of the dog won't fix."

Oops, he should not have said that. 

"Did you get drunk, you idiot? I cannot believe this, you should still be on antibiotics!" - Diego.

"How did you even find anything to drink, I'm sure I didn't have any alcohol at home," - Vanya.

"Klaus, really? We were so worried for you, and you were out getting drunk?" - Allison.

Fan-fucking-tastic, it was bad enough having one little voice disapproving his every move, now he has a whole fucking Greek chorus.

"It was bad enough having one little voice disapproving my every move, now I have a whole fucking Greek chorus," he says, because apparently he has no filter when he's just been rudely woken up by his siblings and he's still a little tipsy - good to know, and by good he means shit.

"What little voice are you even talking about, you weirdo? Are you going to try and convince us you actually have a conscience?" - and whoa, did Diego just use 'us' for a group that includes Vanya and Allison? What did he miss while he was getting his drunk on?

"Whoa, Diego, did you just use 'us' for a group that includes Vanya and Allison? What did I miss while I was getting my drunk on?" - ok, this has to stop. Brain-to-mouth filter, back on - he needs to _look_ like he doesn't have one and he says whatever pops in his head, not really _do_ that.

"You know, you could actually talk to them for real, it would be so good for you," Ben says, still looking amused, the sadistic bastard, because he doesn't have to deal with them, does he. He gets to just spectate.

"Nah, I'm good. What is there to say, I'm fabulous." 

Eight eyes stare at him, and fuck, don't they need to blink? Oh, there, Diego blinked. Now Allison. Oh, there goes Vanya. Does Ben even need to blink? He probably doesn't, but he just did anyway, ha, blinking's weird, and they're all out of synch.   
Oh, shit, he might have to puke - again? Did he puke at some point? He thinks he puked, but it's a bit blurry.

"If you guys could coordinate, that would be less distracting - it's starting to make me feel seasick."

"Coordinate what, Klaus, what weird thing is happening in your head right now?" and Allison really shouldn't sound so exasperated already, they've spent literally one minute together in the last ten years - Ben sounds less exasperated than her most days.

"The blinking, you guys. You are such a mess, you'd never win a synchronized blinking competition, not with an effort like this - just count to three in your head and then blink, come on."

"Alright, ignore him. He's high, or he's drunk, or he's both, what else is new." Wow, Diego's voice is not anxious at all anymore, now they're back on familiar territory. Good, good. Good, right? Good.

"Klaus, are you ok?" Oh, Vanya, sweet Vanya, can always count on her to be nonconfronta- "Why would you not tell me what happened to you, I could have helped!" Shit fuck, what is happening! 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Vanya dear, nothing happened, I just went out and got wasted - if I could just get to enjoy it for a few more minutes before the Sibling Parade of Disappointment comes through with blaring horns, and I do mean blaring, you guys are killing me, I'd be feeling so good right now," deflect, good, deflect. He's doing so well, he's totally fooling them.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know. Diego will have told them, for sure - they totally know, and they want you to talk about it because they care, you idiot. I want you to talk about it, because I care too."

"Could have fooled me, what with calling me gross and pathetic." Yeah, he's bitter about it, still, because fuck Ben. 

"Ok, we never called you gross and pathetic, Klaus, you're always so dramatic," and there Diego goes with the 'we' again, what. 

"I know, I wasn't talking to you - it's really confusing having two conversations at once, give me a break, I'm not nearly drunk enough for this." 

"Are the voices in your head bullying you? Do you need me to have a talk with them?" Ok, that would be the worst thing he can imagine - if Allison teams up with Ben, he's done for. But also, what the fuck, what is with the condescension, aren't they supposed to be worried and supportive? 

"You guys, I'm feeling the love, I am, but I think I'm starting to feel the hangover more, so if you don't mind I'm just going to go finish my vodka and get back into fighting shape - by the way, did I puke? I should be way more drunk than this, still, do you remember if I puked?"

"Yes, Klaus, you did. You barfed all over yourself, that's why I got you to change clothes - that and the piss, you were an olfactory treat." 

"Oh, right, I was wondering why I was wearing this boring little thing - no offense, Vanya, I'm sure it looks great on you."

"Stop, Klaus, just stop. Please, talk to us - I'm not offended, that shirt is really old anyways - but please, just sit down and let's talk." 

"Sure, let's talk - between me and Allison we can totally revamp your wardrobe, and who doesn't love a good makeover montage..."

"Ok, I'm done being nice. You're going to sit on that couch, right now, and shut up, and talk to us." 

"Wow, Diego, that was you being nice, until now? And which one is it, do you want me to shut up or to talk to you?"

"You know what he meant, Klaus, don't be a jerk. Talk to them, please, I would kill to be able to talk to them again and you have a chance, right now," sure, great, a guilt trip.   
Ben can be so petty, and low.

"I don't get what you want me to say, you clearly know what happened already - hey, crazy thought, but hear this: should we all go out and have drinks, together? Fun, right, we can reconnect and talk about all our fond memories of childhood, it'll be like we were never abused so badly we all can't stand each other," yes, that's genius, that's the best plan he had since he was 6, and he taped an electric fan to his back to see if it would make him able to fly.

"You're such an idiot, Klaus" - ok, Diego, rude - "you're not drinking anything other than water for a long time, again, you're supposed to be on antibiotics. Have you even been taking them, moron?" 

"They were the most boring pills I ever took, alright, I don't even know where they went."

"You put them in one of your socks and stuck them in Vanya's crock pot," and what would he do without Ben, other than live a much less annoying life? 

"Was it one of the green socks, I was looking for it this morning," he likes those socks, they've got only the two holes in them and neither one is on his big toe.

"What socks, Klaus? We know you're not talking to a ghost, you're way too drunk for that," and ouch, Vanya, rude, too! Since when? 

"Ok, let's all calm down for a moment, and stop talking over each other, it's giving me a headache. Let's relax a minute, sit together, and talk like we're normal people, ok?" 

"That sounds great, Allison, you guys do that - I'll just be in the bathroom for a quick minute and I'll be right back" - oh shit, now there's grabbing involved, Diego's grabbing him.

It's not good, he can't move, he needs to move, he can't breathe, he's going to die, he's going to die again here in this living room killed by his siblings and he always knew that's how he would go, he knew one day Diego would have enough of him and just grab him and he would just die of it, and Diego's going to feel so bad when he realizes he murdered him - "Klaus, it's ok, he let you go. You can breathe, nobody's holding you down, nobody is going to hurt you. Breathe, please, you're scaring them". Oh, good, Ben - the constant witness to all of his breakdowns.   
He hates Ben, he always sees all of his worst.

"Klaus, it's ok, you're safe here," - Vanya, again, nonconfrontational now. 

"Please, sit down, breathe, you're ok. Sit here, next to me," - Allison, again, and she's not condescending at all.

"Klaus, it's ok, I promise I'm not going to hurt you - I was mad but I wasn't going to hurt you," - Diego, again, his voice is anxious.

"Will you please talk to them, please, Klaus. They care, I care, we all just want to help you," - Ben, now he's not amused at all.

Ugh, his siblings are all so annoying. 

What do they want him to say? He'll ask them again, why not, sounds like a good plan.  
"I really don't understand what you want me to say, what you want me to talk about. You obviously all know what happened, do you want to hear all the details of the things he did to me? Do you want me to describe all the ways he murdered me, over and over, all the times I prayed to that little bitch up there that I would just stay dead? Nobody wants to hear that, come on, that's depressing and boring - it's all the same, it's the same story over and over and over again. The only details that change are what tools he used, but it was days of the same thing, or nights, I'm not sure - I've got so many more interesting stories to tell! Like, once, we found this gym bag, right, and it was full of little baggies of curry powder and hair, I mean literally full, and we couldn't figure out if it was human hair and why would they mix it with curry, but we were so curious - ha, _curryous_ , get it? - so we went to this restaurant because we figured, curry, they use it for cooking, right, they'd know, maybe hair makes it taste better, and the chef had this huge mustache and a really weird beard, like a goat, but braided..." - why are they all staring at him like that, this story is hilarious, there's a roast chicken involved at one point.   
It ends with him getting high, of course, all his stories do, but they don't even know that part yet.

"What do you mean, he murdered you, and you prayed that you would stay dead?" 

Oh, shit. Stupid filterless just-awake brain.


	22. 22. Everyone and Klaus

  
Did she hear it right? It was an avalanche of words, and as usual most didn't make sense, but Vanya's brain is stuck on some of those words: murdered.   
Murdered again and again.   
Stay dead.   
It makes no sense, it can't be true - what, what the hell.

"Stop messing with us, Klaus, if you don't want to be serious at least don't make up weird stories, or please, make them believable. You don't need to lie, it was bad enough being tortured - you don't need to exaggerate."

Ben didn't come back, why would Klaus.  
He's lying, he has to be lying - he's going to laugh one of his airy laughs and make a silly joke in a second, and tell them they're fools for falling for it, and it was not that bad at all.

It's not true, it cannot be true. What she's feeling does not make sense, she can't make it make sense, so he's lying.

Asshole.   
Diego's going to pummel his idiotic brother, what the fuck is he saying.   
Why would he say shit like that, just to hurt him, to punish him for trying so hard to connect with him? Goddammit, he's such an asshole.

"That is low, even for you - you really want to make us think that bastard killed you, and what, you just came back, kept coming back? Fuck you, man, we just wanted to help."

What a dick, he would make up such an infuriating thing just to get their attention, to make himself into the biggest victim ever - he's always been such a mess, so thirsty for their love he'd be willing to lie and manipulate them into it.

Diego hates him right now, and Klaus will regret using his own worry against him as a weapon. Diego will make him regret it.

Brutally, it makes sense to Allison; after all, Klaus always told her horrible stories, this is just one horrible story more, and she always believed all of them.  
If she hadn't left, maybe he would have not gone down this spiral, and he would not have been on the streets that night.

"Klaus, I should have stayed, if I had stayed here, with you, I could have helped you, made things easier; maybe you wouldn't have had to be homeless, you wouldn't have been on the streets that night and he wouldn't have got you." 

If only she had been here, with him, she would have been able to help him - it's all her fault, she did this.   
She was selfish and needed to leave, and she didn't think once about who she was leaving behind.

If only she had been here, or even just picked up the phone and called him, he would be fine.

Disgusting - he's so disgusting, Ben feels like a monster.   
He thought he'd be fine with Klaus breaking down, he was even planning to make him panic again, he thought he'd be happy if he opened up and told their siblings the truth - he forgot how painful it all is, how crushing. He forgot that Klaus has built very little goodwill with them, and now they don't believe him - he's so useless, he should have known, he shouldn't have pushed. Now everything's worse, he's made everything worse.

"I'm sorry they don't believe you, please, say something. Tell me what I can do - Klaus, is there anything I can do?"

There isn't, he knows there isn't. What is the point, there is no point.   
If he even can touch him, he'll only hurt him again, because he's such a horrible person. 

What's the point, he's dead, he only has death to offer - the Horror was such an apt name for him.

As usual, they don't believe him - Ben does, but he saw everything, so he has to.   
Maybe Allison believes him too, she sounds like she might - at least, she's not outright accusing him of lying.  
But Vanya doesn't, and Diego sure doesn't either.  
It's not like he gave them many reasons to believe him, over the years, to be fair.

Ben seems to think that he's quiet because he's crushed, and destroyed - Ben is wrong.  
He's strangely glad that he told them, now, at least Ben will stop nagging him and he seems to feel really guilty, so that's a bonus.   
He's also strangely glad they don't believe him, everything's back to its natural order, he knows exactly where he fits.  
He feels weirdly light - the renewed, absolute certainty that his siblings don't really care, and they will dismiss anything that happens to him as a tall tale comes as a surprising relief.

He'll move forward from this, he always does, and he will find a use for this shitty new thing he apparently now can do - or maybe, can _not_ do is more appropriate. 

He'll move forward, bounce back, he can now take loads more drugs without worrying one of his siblings will have to identify his corpse - if he's honest, he's never worried that much about it anyway, and what does that say about him, about them. 

It's all going to be fine, he's going to be fine - no, great - no, amazing. 

He's going to be amazing, as he's always been. 


	23. 23. Vanya and Accompaniment

  
It's a wall of sound crushing her, a terrifying cacophony pulsating around her with each beat of her heart; she's sure she can hear the noise of the platelets bumping into each other in her veins.

They've all been extraordinary, always, all except her; Klaus was the one she understood least, the one whose powers were most exoteric and mysterious.  
She remembers when they were 7, he would sit in the living room and talk for ages about places they'd never visited, describe in detail the traditional garb of cultures they'd never heard of, sing praise of exotic dishes like he had tasted them himself.  
Then, something changed, and he started hating anything that had to do with his power - his special, mesmerising ability to see past the boundaries of reality; he refused to talk about anything other than the tangible, everyday, ordinary.  
She remembers when they were 13, before Five left, Klaus's spiral had already begun; it was not yet as destructive as it would turn into, but he was already doing everything he could in order to lose himself, and it started by losing his power.

If she had a gift such as that, she would not have wasted it; think of all the composers she could have talked to, all the writers and artists whose brains she could have picked.   
She could have talked to Mozart, summoned Zola, asked Paganini for advice and lessons. Language never seemed to be a barrier for Klaus, and when he still talked about his gift he used to say that it didn't matter, he would always understand the dead no matter what tongue they spoke in.

But still, he was human.  
His power went past what she could understand, even imagine - she could see the others', they were clear to the eye; his was imperceptible to everyone but him.   
But he was human.   
This, what he's saying now, this is not.   
She can't wrap her head around it, she can't wrap her heart around it, it's crashing waves and waves of confusing emotions - is she disbelieving, is she terrified, is she jealous, is she heartbroken for what he went through?  
Or is she heartbroken because that's just another way one of her brothers is special, even more than he already was, and she's just herself, still, again.

She still harbours the fantasy that one day she will discover she also can do something magical, and hers will be the best of all - but instead, her magical brother gets more, and she still gets nothing.  
It makes sense - and yet, it can't make sense. It's not something people can do, even special people like her family, it's just not something that happens.  
Ben was special, Ben was _the most_ special, and he died like a regular human.

Diego's angry, his voice raised and rough, and it grinds against her ribcage like sandpaper; Allison is murmuring softly to Klaus, sitting next to him, caressing his arm, and her voice is soothing her guts.

She seems to believe him, to understand how what he said can be possible - Vanya guesses her power is the one that comes closest to Klaus's, one warps the world and the other can see past it.   
If Allison believes it, should she as well?  
But how can it be, is one of her siblings so past humanity he defies its very definition, mortality?  
They're talking, and talking, she can't hear their words, just their timbres - they sound like instruments, like all they are is just voices.  
Diego's voice is like a bow scratching on a cello, aggressive and mournful at the same time; Allison is a flute played with mastery, alternating between soft and passionate; Klaus is a theremin, most of the time just incoherent noise, but if someone knows what they're doing he can produce beauty just by being brushed past.  
Their voices vibrate inside her, raising and rising, like a tidal wave - no, a tsunami.   
She feels like she's going to overflow, like her body is too small to contain all of her. 

(She doesn't know it, because it's daylight still, but the power lines outside her house spark and explode off their posts, and cause a blackout that will last for hours).

Above everything else, every other, unfamiliar feeling, that doubt, that horrible, paralyzing doubt: is he telling the truth?   
If he is, what does it say about her that the feeling she can most recognize is envy?  
She has to make sense of this, she has to get him to tell the truth, to say he was making it up - it's the only way the wave will die down.   
If she could just make him see how impossible what he's saying is, he might just laugh, and back down, and go back to being a human. 

Maybe he was in so much pain he just thought he was dying - and that doesn't sound better, at all, but it does sound explainable.

"I just, I don't understand, Klaus - you surely were just unconscious, and thought you were dead. Sure, you guys have always been extraordinary, but you have always been human, too," let's give him an out, so he won't have to fess up to lying, a much kinder solution.

"Vanya dear, I'm pretty sure I met God - ethnically ambiguous little girl, if anyone had that as their pick in the betting pool, by the way - and that never happened before when I lost consciousness, and trust me, that happens to me a lot, like, a _lot_ lot."

Of course, her extraordinary brother now has meetings with God.   
It was not enough to commune with the dead, does he have to commune with the universe, too?  
  
Allison is joining the conversation now, louder, disagreeing with Diego - she's not sure what they're talking about, she's just stuck on an infinite loop of not-human, not-dead, not-ordinary. 

He was probably delirious, hallucinating, maybe he was still high.

"I just mean, it's way past seeing the dead, or curving knives, or even brainwashing people with a few words," and she doesn't want to offend anyone, she doesn't, but it seems like she has, Allison cut in - she didn't even hear her words, her world is white noise. She apologizes anyway. "Sorry, Allison. It's just, it's not human, Klaus." 

"Wow, Vanya, don't mince your words there - Ben has a monster inside him, but I'm the one who's not human?- sorry, Benny, please stop being so down, it's all good, I'm good".

How dare he even mention Ben, she knows what he's playing, she knows he's too drunk still to see anyone.   
He's just punishing her by reminding her Ben is dead, as if she could ever forget that - not that, never that.

"I'm not saying that, I'm just saying, what you think happened can't have happened, because you _are_ human, and that wouldn't be - and are you really going to pretend Ben is here, don't be mean just because you're mad at us."   
She hopes she was not too harsh, she doesn't want to make him think he's crazy, but maybe he was just _driven_ crazy by the torture, the agony.  
God, why is she thinking that? That's not better, that's not better at all.   
Is she so bitter and petty she would prefer her brother was in so much pain he was having delusions, rather than be even more special than he already was?

It's Diego and Klaus now, ping-ponging like they used to as children, but there's no good humor, no barely hidden affection. Klaus raises his voice, too, adding to the level of the sea inside her, but then his voice dissolves again, like mist, pervaded by lightness once more.  
She hears her name, first from Allison, then from Klaus, but they're not calling her, they're not trying to get her attention - when have they ever, when has anyone ever.

If he's telling the truth, what does it mean? How many times has he died, how many times will he die, will it stick one day and catch them all by surprise?   
She had not seen him in ten years, she had barely thought about him in ten years, why is the idea of him dying, of not seeing him again opening a chasm in her soul as deep as Five's departure did, as painful as Ben's death?

She catches snippets of what Diego's saying, the noise in her head starting to ebb and flow, he's asking Klaus to stay at his place - does Diego believe him too, now?  
Is she, once again, excluded from everything?   
She doesn't mind Klaus going to Diego's, but she doesn't mind him being here either, and she wants him to know that - she needs him to know that, only partly because she doesn't want to be left out again.

"...you can still stay as long as you want, it wasn't a bother, really. I don't mind, I just want to understand what happened".

If he's lying, she will forgive him - he's never mentioned her book, or shown any resentment in the few days they spent together, she can extend the same courtesy.

If he's telling the truth - if he's telling the truth, she doesn't know if she can.

  
She's starting to think she's the one who's not human.


	24. 24. Diego and Rage (not Fear, shut up)

  
Alliances always shifted swiftly and unpredictably, while they were growing up; it was fun, and self-preservation at the same time, to gang up 6-on-1, then for a while 5-on-1.   
When it became 4-on-1 it stopped being fun, because the grievances and recriminations had grown too big and hurtful for the alliances to shift at all, and whatever configuration they ended up in would stick for days, with increasingly mean comments flying around - until everything broke, and it all became 1-on-1, everyone out for themselves.  
But for the first few years, it wasn't unusual for One, Two, Three, Four, Six and Seven to join forces and make fun of Five, only for the dynamic to suddenly change in the blink of an eye and Five to join forces with Two, Three, Four, Six and Seven to make fun of One, and so on and so forth.  
Never in front of their father, of course, who was as opposed to them ribbing and pestering each other as he was to them being affectionate and close outside of the battlefield.  
It was always so terribly confusing, being supposed to act as a team but being discouraged from being a family, from becoming friends.

Diego is reminded of that now, as he finds himself firmly on Vanya's side, the side of complete disbelief - and who would have fucking thought he'd agree with Vanya on anything, at this point in life. 

He wanted an explanation, sure, but he wanted a fucking rational one - the answer to "how did you survive" can't be "I didn't, I just kept coming back".   
Fuck this, it's just so far-fetched - and that's coming from someone whose entire life has been far-fetched.  
He can believe seeing the dead, alright, fine, he believes Klaus can do that, he's seen proof of that, Klaus knowing things he couldn't possibly know otherwise - but coming back from the dead, that's just a step too fucking far. 

And yet, is it, though.   
If anyone has a strange, closer-than-normal relationship with death and the afterlife, that has to be Klaus, right? Would it really be so unimaginable that his power would extend from controlling the dead to controlling death itself?  
If it's true, if he's not lying for once, it's the worst thing Diego has ever heard come out of his brother's mouth, and he's heard a lot of shit.

But then again, Klaus has lied to him so much, over the years, has stolen from him, has manipulated him - but there was always a goal, there, something he wanted, what's the goal here. Diego doesn't know what the point of this lie is, and that pisses him right off.   
Klaus already had their compassion, he had all of the compassion and support he could possibly gulp down, after disintegrating into his arms when he was just trying to stop him from going to get even more drunk, he didn't need to pile on more horror.   
He's so angry he can't see straight, and if he hadn't promised Klaus he wouldn't hurt him he'd deck him, right now.   
How fucking dare he, how dare he - but if it's true.   
God, if it's true, then he didn't survive, not at all, and that makes him even more pissed off, because what the fuck. How much worse can things even get, at this point, really.

He now looks so very relaxed, leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed behind his head, so he has to be lying, right.   
He makes a spectacle of every scratch - remember, when he moaned for days like Diego had stabbed him, and he had just nicked his ear while throwing a knife at a robber because Klaus had darted in front of him at the last second.  
Remember, when he came to his place that may not be much, but he works for it, fuck you, acting like he could barely stand because of a sprained ankle and writhing in pain while Diego bandaged it up, and then stole all his money and his fucking coffee pot and sold it for drugs.  
And when he was twelve, and all of a sudden he was pale and shaky and refused to tell anyone what had happened - remember then, how he acted like everything was fine just a few hours later - fucking shit, when Klaus is really hurt he curls up like a pillbug, Diego knows, he knows that.  
Is he being a pillbug right now? If Klaus is telling the truth, his reaction to it just made him look like a complete asshole, and Diego will never forgive him for it. 

"Well, guys, it's been grand, but I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome, you know, so I'll just grab my pants and go," yeah right. Like Diego's going to let him out of his sight again - he's either a fucking liar, and Diego will break him down and get him to tell the truth, or - he can't think of the alternative, it's just fucking unthinkable.

"You're not going anywhere - sit your ass down. You're not running away from this, you coward," he should maybe be less aggressive, even if he did make that shit up Diego remembers the state he was in when he found him - but his brain is now screaming at him that he might be telling the truth, so he can't possibly be nice.

"Ok, let's say I even entertained for a second the possibility that you're telling the truth, for once in your miserable life," yeah, he should tone it down, he knows, alright, he knows, "how the fuck would that even work? What, are you fucking immortal, now?"

"Oh, Diego, I wish I knew - you now know all I know, which is that I was dead, and then I wasn't. And again, and again. It's fine, it's all good - finally, a useful power! It's a dream come true, really, my actions have no consequences - for me, at least, and that's all that matters! I will have so much fun with this, you guys have no idea."

Allison is running her hand on his arm, now, gently, her eyes looking soft and wet, because of course she believes him, she would believe that cows have wings, as long as Diego told her they don't.   
Oh, God, if Allison turns out to be right about Klaus, again, Diego will never forgive him for it.  
He can't let Allison be right, no way.

Vanya looks so confused, and overwhelmed, and lost, he almost feels a pang of sympathy for her, before he remembers.  
She sounds very far away, and she generously gives him an explanation on a silver fucking platter - and his stupid jerk of a brother babbles some nonsense about God, instead of taking the out and telling the truth.

He can make him, it dawns on him. He can make him tell the truth. He's so used to not having Allison around that he forgot sometimes she's real useful.

"It's not funny, ok, you're not funny. None of this is funny. Tell us the truth, for once, or Allison will rumor you, and make you," there, that's a good plan. Let's see how you like that, you goddamn liar.

"No, I won't, you fucking asshole. I believe him - what is so hard to believe? I can make people do whatever I want with a sentence, you just said that as if it was the most normal thing in the world, but coming back from the dead, that's out of the realm of possibility?"

"Thank you, Allie, I appreciate the vote of confidence, truly, but Diego here is a bullheaded bastard with trust issues..."

"No, you don't get to do that, you don't get to make me sound like the asshole here. Allison, you missed ten years, alright. You missed ten whole years where I kept tabs on this fucker, offered him food, and a bed" - "A dirty couch in your dirty lair, you mean" - "Shut up, Klaus, you ungrateful bitch - and all he did was lie, take advantage of me, steal my shit and then sell it to get high. I have good fucking reason to not trust a word out his mouth."

"I have never once lied to you in my life, Diego, unless you count all those little white lies because knowing I was high would just hurt your feelings - but that was to protect you! And when have I ever stolen from you - ok, aside from that one...five... eight times, but that was it! I'm hurt, really, devastated, that you would hold it against me, that's really un-brotherly of you," and he's acting like everything's normal, like they're having a regular bickering session. He's not acting like a bomb just went off, while the rest of them are all still shellshocked, blown to bits around him.

He's dancing around in the ruins of his own explosion, and isn't that typical and infuriating.

"I just mean, it's way past seeing the dead, or curving knives, or even brainwashing people with a few words" - "Hey, I don't brainwash people!" - "Sorry, Allison. It's just, it's not human, Klaus."

"Wow, Vanya, don't mince your words there - Ben has a monster inside him, but I'm the one who's not human?- sorry, Benny, please stop being so down, it's all good, I'm good."

Oh, fuck him, that is low. Bringing Ben into this, like the words "dead" and "brother" don't plunge all of them back to that courtyard when said near each other.   
Good for Vanya, and again, he has to stop being on her side, for calling him out on his bullshit.   
But she gives him another out, a slightly insulting one, sure - they don't know him, not like he does. They don't know how much he lies, how much he likes to pretend he's not a shrewd predator and meanwhile he's sizing you up to attack.

"Oh, ok, so I'm human, but crazy - fair enough, I can go with that. Hey, maybe I did hallucinate everything, you'd think I would hallucinate a less bitchy God, or at least one who's hot and not a child, but that's as good an explanation as any. Now, that's settled, is anyone still up for my plan to go have drinks?"

"Nobody was ever up for it to begin with, dumbass. This is the last time I ask, after this, I'm done with this shit, and with you: tell us the truth."

"I fucking did! I did, ok, I swear I'm not lying. If you don't believe me, fine, good, I get it. It's all good, it is. I'm over that whole thing anyway, I'm done with all that. Let's go out and get toasted together, just like the good old days - oooh, we never did get drunk together, the four of us, did we? We will have to remedy that, presto!"

He started off sounding fucking sincere, here's the thing.   
Diego has memorized his siblings' inflections, in his endless struggle to emulate them and make words himself, he remembers all the colors in their voices.   
He started off hurt, and sincere, and veered off halfway through into sing-song carefreeness.   
Fuck, shit, what if he's telling the truth?

Allison cuts in, and he hears her invite Klaus to stay with her in her hotel room - fucking no, Diego is not letting him out of his sight again, Klaus in a 5-star hotel is just going to steal all the silverware in the restaurant and go pawn it off for pills.

"...we can order room service, have dinner together and catch up, and maybe tomorrow we'll all be less upset and we'll be able to talk about this like adults?"

"Ugh, what is there left to talk about, really? I got tortured, got killed, came back. One out of ten, would not recommend. You don't believe me, that's fine, that's all good - no need to talk about it anymore, it's all in the past. I won't say no to a nice hotel bed, though, that sounds heavenly after being stuck on this couch - no offense, Vanya, I'm endlessly grateful, but fuck me, you're tiny, and so is your couch."

Diego has the sudden, inescapable certainty that if he lets Klaus go he will not see him again - possibly ever. He will sneak out of the hotel while Allison is sleeping and vanish into the night, and Diego is not going around the city for a fourth fucking time for him, fuck that shit.

"No, man, you owe me. You sent me on a wild goose chase around the dregs of this shithole of a city, and I had to spend time with these two", Allison looks offended, Vanya still looks just overwhelmed, "so you're going to come with me, to my place, and you're going to make up for being such a mess and getting yourself abducted by doing my laundry and shit - and if anything goes missing, I'm fucking making a citizen's arrest, alright, and marching you into jail myself." There, he's done it.   
He's offered, was that so hard, he just had to get angry and shove a threat in there.

"...you can still stay as long as you want, it wasn't a bother, really. I don't mind, I just want to understand what happened."

"Wow, would you look at that, I'm the belle of the ball! Everyone wants me, but of course they do, who wouldn't want all of this, even just for decorative purposes. I think I'll pass, though, there's a dumpster that's calling my name - ow! Diego, don't hit me, you asshole!"

"I barely touched you, you baby. Now, pack up your shit, if you even have any, you're coming with me."

He's almost sure, now, he's almost convinced he was telling the truth.   
He doesn't know what to do with it, how to live with it - it means he failed, he did not save his brother at all, Klaus was murdered, and if he was just a regular person Diego would have had to identify a John Doe; given the state Klaus was in when he found him, he might not have recognized him at all.

  
Diego will never forgive him(self) for it.


	25. 25. Allison and, mainly, Herself

  
The first time Klaus terrified her, it was three weeks after Ben's funeral.  
He staggered into her room on a Wednesday night, threw himself on her bed and told her, like he was telling her a prurient secret, that some guys had just given him the most amazing pills, and all he had to do was get fucked.  
She was naïve, unprepared - she thought it would be just one of his usual stories where he would sneak into college parties and make all the boys, all the girls fall in love, offer him drinks, share their pot.  
She did not expect him to talk in graphic detail of the five men, all at least twice his age, who held him down and took turns with his body, fucking him, hitting him, spitting on him.   
One stubbed out a cigarette on his arm - and he giggled while showing her the rounded red mark, right above the umbrella. 

She now thinks maybe his stories before had been edulcorated for her benefit, and that night he was just too high to make it sound better than it was; who knows just how long he had been degrading himself.  
She remembers she shed a few tears, shocked and scared, and Klaus gathered them on the tip of his finger and sucked them into his mouth.  
After months of terrible stories, that all started or ended with him getting high and letting men do things that even now still make her thighs clamp together in sympathy, she started thinking that was his goal - to hurt her, to feed off her tears for him.   
Now she's an adult, and she knows enough about addiction to understand he barely cared about her at all, not because he didn't love her enough, but because addicts _can't_ care about anyone other than themselves.

He's forcing his body to look relaxed and at ease, now, forgetting she once knew him well enough to be able to tell when his nose itched before he would scratch it; she can see the strain, the barely repressed urge to flee.   
This is all her fault - she should have done something, said something.   
Instead of just begging him to stop telling her those horrible things, she should have gone to the others, they should have banded together and helped him, stopped him.   
They were meant to save people, why could they never save each other.  
She could have so easily made him stop - a few words, and he wouldn't have wanted drugs ever again.   
Why did she never rumor him to stop, to get help, to get better? She could have fixed things so easily, but she never did.

"I'm so sorry, I should have been here. I should have never left you, not when I knew how bad it was getting - I should have stayed, I should have helped", she murmurs to him and him only, she can't have the others hear just how badly she let everyone down. 

He barely reacts, as if he doesn't even hear her - why doesn't he hear her, he should turn to her and tell her it's not her fault, he was beyond reach, she couldn't have done anything.  
Why is he not absolving her of this, she's a good person, she deserves absolution. 

Vanya is lost, Diego is angry - expected, of both of them.   
Klaus is carefree, light - he's fleeing. He tries to stand up, Diego stops him with a growl.   
She should listen to them, but she's so caught in beating herself up that she can't hear anyone else.

Why did she never rumor him, why has she always used her wonderful, horrible gift only to make things easier for herself - she was taught she should use it for the greater good, and yet, she never thought Klaus getting better would be part of the greater good.   
It was not that bad, at first, she thought it was just an innocent escape - like her and Luther hiding away in the attic, like Vanya, Ben and Five in the library.   
He would drink a little, smoke a little, get a little high - she couldn't have known it would get that bad. She couldn't have, that's not her fault.  
But then, when it did get bad, why did she wash her hands of him, why did she decide that it was too hard to hear, to painful to see?   
Why didn't she do something, she should have done something, she _could_ have done something.

He sits back down next to her, and she reaches out, on instinct, to rub his arm; he'd always crave physical contact, as a child, grabbing onto their sleeves and brushing against their shoulders, as if to make sure he could touch them.   
She wants him to know she's there, to acknowledge her, to wash her of her guilt. She wants to re-do the last fifteen years, to go back and stop him when he was still stoppable.   
She wants so many things, and he's not giving her anything - maybe she should rumor him now, get him to turn to her, get him to heal himself.   
She could do that, it would be for the greater good, it would not mean she's not a good person. 

"...tell us the truth, for once, or Allison will rumor you, and make you," she hears Diego bite out, and how dare he think that. She would never do that, she wouldn't - she was thinking of doing that, how dare he know that.

"No, I won't, you fucking asshole. I believe him - what is so hard to believe? I can make people do whatever I want with a sentence, you just said that as if it was the most normal thing in the world, but coming back from the dead, that's out of the realm of possibility?", put him back in his place, she's not like him.   
She believes Klaus, she needs him to know that - she needs all of them to know that, she's a better sister than them.

"Thank you, Allie, I appreciate the vote of confidence, truly, but Diego here is a bullheaded bastard with trust issues..."

"No, you don't get to do that, you don't get to make me sound like the asshole here. Allison, you missed ten years, alright...", sure, Diego, rub it in.   
It's not like she could forget that, she's been torturing herself over that for the past few days - and that's a poor choice of words, she doesn't want to think about torture ever again.

Diego's moaning about something or other, that's so like him, making everything about himself - he's not like her, he's not feeling this crushing pain and guilt. 

Vanya still sounds far away and disbelieving, but she says that she brainwashes people, and Allison can't let that stand.   
She doesn't, it's not brainwashing, she never makes them do unpleasant, demeaning things - she just gives them a nudge, pushes them gently towards doing what they should do in the first place.   
That's not brainwashing, that's just helping them become better people - Patrick could stand to be more patient and supportive, Claire needs to eat her veggies and go to bed early.   
That's not brainwashing, let's not be dramatic.   
That's just using the tools life gave her, for the greater good.

She keeps rubbing Klaus's arm, for his benefit, of course - he feels warm, and alive, and that means she's not too late, she can fix this.   
There's still time, she can touch him, they're both alive.   
She can't stay here now, she has a husband and a daughter in LA, and she can't bring him home with her, she has a husband and a daughter there - but she will call, she will write, oh, God, she hopes he will have a phone to call, and an address to send letters to.

Klaus sounds upset now, genuinely - when was the last time she heard genuine pain in his voice? He used to talk lightly about being abused, and infuse his voice with heartbreak when she'd eat the last donut. 

If she stops rubbing his arm, he's going to disappear again, she won't see him for another ten years, and who knows what she'll find in his place ten years from now, how much more ruined, and broken, and warped he can get.   
She can still save him, she failed him so much but she can still save him now, from whatever will happen in the next ten years if she doesn't do something.

"Klaus, why don't you come to my hotel room with me, so Vanya can have her apartment back to herself, and we can order room service, have dinner together and catch up, and maybe tomorrow we'll all be less upset and we'll be able to talk about this like adults?", maybe they can still reach each other.

They will sit on her California King bed, order room service and have dinner together, he will tell her his horrible story and she will listen and tell him it was not his fault.   
She will tell him about Patrick, about Luther, he will listen and tell her there's nothing wrong with her, he will listen and tell her she did nothing wrong.

She needs him to tell her she did nothing wrong - he's the expert on doing wrong things, so he'd know.

  
He's known so many horrible people, if he says she's a good person he'll mean it.


	26. 26. Ben and Self-Awareness, unwelcome

  
It was cold, and dark; all the color was draining out of the edges of the world, and he was so small, so scared, so alone.  
He had never felt that deep of a silence, not growing up with six, then five siblings; he had never felt so crushingly lonely, not when he had treasured his rare moments of solitude all throughout childhood.   
He was rooted to the spot, that inexistent spot neither on one side nor the other, unable to step forward or back. 

He didn't want to go.   
He didn't want to go, he was not ready, it was way too soon - who thought he was ready, why would they think that.   
Why him, why, how was that fair - he did not want to leave.

And then, a light - a sound - a beacon of life calling to him, familiar, far away, but getting closer.   
A hand outstretched, a lighthouse, a whisper of warmth; he knew that voice, he would always know all those voices, no matter how far they were in space or in time.  
He could go to the light - whatever that meant, whatever waited for him on the other side, and no surprises had ever been good for them, so why would this one be.

Or, he could go to the other light, the smaller, but warmer one - the one that felt familiar, and instead of terror sparked a rush of love.

He made himself gather his courage, and forced his legs to take a step - to his brother, to Klaus, to life.  
Wouldn't you have?

  
He's been so angry at him, over the years, so disappointed, and let down, and angry - but he'll never forget when he was so small, and scared, and alone, and Klaus reached out and grabbed him, and dragged him ashore.  
He'll never forget when his brother's voice calling his name made him feel safe, like he'd made it home after being lost in the woods.   
He thought he could do the same for him, bring him home, save him from being lost; he thought what had worked for him would work for Klaus too, but he was wrong, so terribly wrong.

Ten years he's been wrong, thinking that the life he wanted to live would have been good for Klaus too - not anymore, never, no.   
He would stop trying to make Klaus into a version of himself, from now on, he would stop.

(He will change his mind again just a few months later, driven to despair once more by his brother wasting himself; but for now, he really does mean it).

They're all so selfish, and self-absorbed, all of them.  
Vanya can't comprehend Klaus being so far from normal, she just keeps equating his otherness with inhumanity.  
Diego can't see past his own failure, and is stuck in a vortex of commingling terror and anger.  
Allison can't get out of the movie where she's the protagonist, and everything always goes back to her.

Ben is not like them, Ben is better - he's always been better, he's the one everyone got along with, the one everyone could count on.   
If only he was still alive, he'd be better.

He would be so much better at this.

Right?

Ben would believe him, even if he hadn't been there and seen, again and again and again again, his brother stop living, and then start, and then stop, and then start.  
He would believe him, and tell him that, and tell him how sorry he is, how strong Klaus must have been to get through it with his sanity - somewhat - intact.  
He'd tell him he's not a failure, that this is not something he's coming short of, it's just another thing among the things that make him special.  
He'd also tell him he doesn't want him to die again, even if it won't stick, he'd tell him every time he did Ben felt small, and scared, and alone again.

He'd be better, and he'd tell him all of that.

  
Except he didn't, did he.

He didn't.   
He told him he was an idiot for not wanting to talk about it, because Ben wanted to talk about it.  
He told him he was pathetic for drowning his pain in alcohol, because Ben wouldn't have done it.  
He thought to himself that seeing him die again would not be that bad, after all, he comes back from it, because Ben didn't come back from it.

He's a monster, he's always been - he's not any better than the rest of them, he's just as bad. Maybe worse.  
He thought that he knew himself well enough to admit his own faults, and all the time he was just as blind, just as selfish.

  
Klaus is acting like everything's fine, now, and Ben knows that it's not - but he's learned his lesson.   
He will not force him to talk, not if he doesn't want to; he didn't want to go into the light, and Klaus didn't force him - didn't make him - didn't let him.  
Klaus didn't let him get lost, so Ben will return the favor and let him, if that's what he needs.

He can't say anything, doesn't know what he could say; he's so afraid of himself, of how bitter and angry being dead made him, he's so scared that whatever he says will just make things worse.

  
They're all talking without listening to each other, as usual, they always did that; now they're falling all over each other to offer Klaus a place to stay, a shelter, an anchor, to be the ones that will save him and add that badge to their uniform.  
Klaus is his own anchor, has had to be for such a long time, Ben should not be surprised or disheartened if he goes adrift sometimes - fine, most of the time.

Ben hopes he will accept one of their offers, he should get a warm place to sleep, a safe place to let his guard down, but he won't push, not anymore.   
He won't push - he's done pushing, he's done.  
The moment Klaus fell to pieces again he remembered he loves him, and froze from the inside when he realized what he was willing to do just to make his own existence better; he will not push again, unless Klaus asks him.

Klaus looks at him, eyes large and sparkling in mirth, how can they, and asks him.

"Well, oh bothersome conscience of mine, what do you think?"

He loves Vanya, but she's unmoored right now, almost as lost as Klaus himself. She was always closer to him than to Klaus anyway, and he's done being selfish - for now, at least, he wants to be done.  
He loves Allison, but she can't offer more than a couple of nights, her life is so far away. She was closer to Klaus than maybe anyone else, but only when he was what she wanted him to be - and that stings to think about, because isn't that him, too.

"Diego," he says, because Klaus asked.

Diego's angry, and hurt, always, and he might take it out on Klaus - but he has something to prove, he grew up needing to prove so many things.  
Diego will go out of his way to be the hero of the story, to fix things; Ben can let him do the hard work, the nagging, the saving, and just be someone Klaus will actually like, for a bit.

Maybe he's not that done being selfish, but he thinks they both deserve it, himself and Klaus - they deserve a break, they deserve to be friends, they deserve each other.

  
They're both horrible, unnatural monsters, after all, who else can love them as wholly.


	27. 27. Klaus, and Life and Death

  
It's always seemed so flimsy, to him, the barrier between life and death.   
If he wanted to get philosophical about it, which he does sometimes, he's smart, ok, especially when he's stoned, he would say it's no barrier at all, it's like his own gender: life and death, male and female, both existing at once across the whole of the universe.  
He's not bound to one or the other, there's no difference; they both are, in him, around him, everywhere and at every moment.

Just like gender, again, they're defined by their very own opposites, so why not do away with definitions altogether.   
What's the point of defining death, if it's just the state opposite life, and vice versa?  
What's the point in trying to understand it, to make sense of it - it doesn't follow rules, there's no order, there's no cause and effect.   
It just is - lifeanddeath, a singular entity, from the beginning of time to its very end, and then after that, too. 

Five had nothing on him, space and time are child's play when compared to lifeanddeath. 

He always found it so funny when his siblings asked him to summon a ghost, as if he had control over them - as if they were even in any place he could summon them from.   
Just because the dead are not here, doesn't mean they are there - they are both, always, everywhere and nowhere, now, and an hour ago, and in ten years, and sixty million years ago.  
If he ever sees Five again, he's going to make his head explode just by telling him that - lifeanddeath is now and a hundred years ago at the same time, and a hundred years from now.   
Time means nothing to him, the dead of today are the dead of tomorrow are the dead of last year.  
He hopes he gets to see Five again, unless Five is dead, then he already knows that time means fuckall when lifeanddeath joins the fray.   
He hopes Five is not dead - he really wants to see him get angry when he tells him his power is meaningless.

  
He's terrified of the dead, sure, fine, he is.   
He wasn't always, but he learned to be.   
He learned some people stop being people when they stop having to be, he learned the fact they are everywhere and nowhere also means they can be anywhere - in the mausoleum and in his bedroom and in the bathtub and in his head, all at once, always and never and forever.  
He can't summon them, he can't send them away - again, there's no place for them to be, to go back to. It's just nowhere, everywhere, always and never.  
He can shut them the hell up, though, and that's something. The fact it feels as good as an orgasm is just a side benefit - a very big one, ok, he loves orgasms - which, come to think of it, he wouldn't mind one right now; it's been a while, and he loves sex almost as much as drugs.

Then one day, when for the first time in his life he was desperate enough to try and call someone to him from the nowhere, he did it, he managed to; and that didn't end well for either of them - or maybe it did, Ben is looking at him like he loves him, like he's grateful.   
Oh, well, we'll see how long that lasts.   
He should stop being so harsh, poor Ben looks like he's seen a ghost - he will never grow tired of this stupid joke, never, no matter how many groans it gets.

That day he learned that he can do it, he can call the dead from the nowhere; maybe one day he'll learn how to send them back there, and he's going to ignore for now how his heart aches when he thinks of offering it to Ben, and of Ben saying yes.   
He learned that no matter how much he thought he knew about lifeanddeath there were things he could do he didn't think could be done, by anyone.

Now he just learned something else new about it, that's all.   
Like he was the only person on Earth to understand how lifeanddeath works, which is to say, not at all, it doesn't work, it just is, he's now the only person on Earth who can visit each end of it, and come back (more or less) unscathed.

So, if he thinks about it in those terms, it stops being something that just happens to him, and it becomes something he's doing - he can totally deal with that, he's done so many things on the scale from unpleasant to nightmarish.  
To keep the gender simile going, and thank you Ben for the pedantry, it's like drag, which is one thing he has never done but would not rule out, he'd be fucking fabulous, thank you. 

He's just dipping his toes on one end of the lifeanddeath spectrum, and then going back on the other side - not all the way, probably, he suspects he exists somewhere around the middle, but does it really matter where he starts from.  
He can just as easily go and test out the other opposite, see how the waters are on that side - he will always be free to roam, to explore.   
He has access to the full spectrum, now.  
He gets to demystify the universe, to strip it of its power and its hold on him: he's seen death, he's seen life, he gets them, lifeanddeath is his bitch now. 

He's made lifeanddeath his bitch, isn't that something - who's the disappointment now, _dad_. 

  
Vanya is terrified of him, or for him, he can't tell the difference; is there really a difference, though.   
Diego is furious at him, or for him; again, no difference.  
Allison is convinced it's her fault; it's nobody's fault, there's no fault at all.

They all want him to stay with them, and that's unusual and titillating - they all want to fix him, and that's expected and boring.  
He can't tell if they love him or they just want to assuage their own guilt, but he doesn't care much either way, honestly; he's just cracked the code to fucking lifeanddeath, who cares about them. (He does, he cares. He loves them, he does - not as much as the drugs, and the alcohol, and the blissful numbness they bring with them, but he loves them so much. If they loved him even a fraction back, he'd be fine).

If they think he's weak, or pathetic, for wanting to get out of himself and take himself offline, so to speak, so be it; he contains lifeanddeath itself, he deserves to unplug for as long as he can, that's not weakness, that's just self-preservation.   
Fine, it also feels real fucking good, and he would sell his mother - she sold him, after all, it's only polite to return the favor - for some Ecstasy right now, he loves how everything in the world has a texture but none of those textures hurts when he's on it. 

He doesn't think he's going to get it, not for a while; Diego looks like a dog with a bone, he won't let him go for some time.  
  
He will, though, at some point, none of his siblings can be around him for long without getting fed up - and how to blame them, he's everything and nothing at once, again, he's lifeanddeath itself.   
He runs away from himself whenever he can, can't blame others for doing the same.

He knows how this ends, he knows exactly how it ends: they'll grow tired of him, as soon as they realize they can't fix him.   
There's nothing to fix!   
He's wonderful, he's everything and everywhere and everywhen, how can you fix lifeanddeath, it just is.  
He just is.   
Maybe one day he'll meet someone who will just let him be.

But Ben is looking at him with those eyes, and those eyes could make him say yes to almost anything in the world, even things that don't have a payoff for him, and he rarely says yes to those.  
So he'll play nice, he'll pretend he hasn't skipped to the end - not that he had to, he's always known the end, he was born knowing the end. 

He _is_ the end - whoa, that's dark.  
He's not the end, let's not get ahead of ourselves, here.   
It just doesn't take a genius, alright? Allison's offering him what, one night? Then she'll fly back to LA and he's left in a dumpster again, which is ok, he's not bitter, but he does prefer a bed; and she won't ask him to go with her, he's clearly not a good thing to have around a child, what with all his sharp edges and small pieces that can be detached and swallowed. He's a choking hazard, he's always been, and he's proud of it.  
Vanya's great and all, but she seems so fucking out of it right now that he's a little concerned she will murder him in his sleep just to see if he does come back - nah, that's mean. She wouldn't do that.   
She'd just eviscerate him in her new book - and Jesus, is he still angry about that? Let it go, he should let it go, he's starting to sound like Diego.   
And how apropos, Diego.

Oh, lovely, knify Diego, growling like a pitbull rescued from a fighting ring, he can never tell if Diego will stab him or hug him - same thing for him, though, same thing, neither will kill him, both will hurt.  
He'll go with Diego, because it's the only option that makes sense, and Diego is so fucking stubborn he might just kidnap him from wherever else he's staying - or was it abduct? He's forgotten the difference, he'll have to ask Ben. He's tried really hard to forget everything dad ever taught them.

He'll stay with Diego for a bit, until Diego understands he can't save him because there's nothing to save him from, he's fantastic and amazing, he holds the whole of the universe inside himself and just needs the universe to shut the fuck up every once in a while.

And Ben is still looking at him with those eyes, like he regrets every word he ever spoke to him; he should regret some, really, he's an insufferable nag, but he doesn't want Ben to regret that time he said 'cockalorum' when talking about dad, that was funny as fuck, funnier still because he then passionately defended his use of it.

So he'll throw him a bone, a peace offering:

"Well, oh bothersome conscience of mine, what do you think?"

He'll say Diego, of course, because they both know their siblings.

He's sure of how this will end - how it always ends - but he'll play along, and pretend he doesn't know how it goes.


	28. 28. How it Goes

  
Klaus will stay with Diego for a few months, and they will slowly annoy each other to pieces.  
One day, Diego will come home and find Klaus dead, on the floor, his lips blue and his skin cold, surrounded by empty pill baggies.  
He will sit vigil by his brother's corpse and pray that, for once in his life, he told the truth, and Diego was not the biggest idiot for starting to believe him.  
When Klaus will wake up, again, as always, Diego won't be able to distinguish fury from grief, and will give him two options: get clean or get out.  
Klaus will get out.

  
Klaus will only get clean after he falls in love, for the very first time in his life with a person, and understands what it means to put someone else's needs before his own.   
He will learn everything about his love, he will love everything he learns; he will talk to him just to talk, with no other goal than to know him - he won't look for cracks to exploit, or soft spots to hit.  
He will lose his love, of course, because he's still lifeanddeath's bitch after all, and once again he will ask himself how his heart is not giving out, how is it still beating through all of this pain.   
He will also, one day, learn to savour the sweetness of it even through the heart-rending loss, and he will learn that he wasn't lying for once when he thought he'd contain all of the universe - but all of that is way in the future, and way in the past too.

  
Diego will keep kicking ass, and taking no names; he will also keep being hurt and, for that, angry, and wishing Eudora would give him a second chance - but he will never admit it, and will pretend her friendship's enough for him. Until one day he'll miss her friendship so much he will realize enough doesn't exist anyway.  
He will get into more and more boxing matches, because nothing feels as good as punching someone when someone needs to get punched - nothing feels better than getting punched right back, pinpointing the hurt to a single spot on his face.  
And then he will let himself love again, let his siblings love him again, and he'll realize that his wounds heal much better through that than through rage - but that's still years down the line.

  
Allison will fly back to LA, and will call her siblings once a week for a month, then once a month, then every two. Then not at all, she will wait for Diego to call her, as usual.  
She will not cut down on her rumors until, for the first time in her life, her rumors ruin everything instead of making things better.  
She will try to fix her marriage and fail, she will lose custody of her daughter.   
She will stop hearing rumors at all, and hope that's enough for her to be a good person - she'll convince herself that she never was at all, when she remembers the rumor she was forced to hear as a child.   
In a few years, and a few years back, she'll be loved by a man who will understand how wonderful and how horrible her power is, and she will lose him too. She'll make a life for herself without any shortcuts, and she'll become better for it - but there's plenty of time until that.

  
Vanya will get really angry at Phillip the oboist one day when he doesn't return her pencil, and she will get very scared of the strength of her anger, of feeling out of control; she will start taking her meds again, and go back to her regular routine - she will tell herself she likes it better that way.  
She will not speak to Klaus, or Diego, or Allison for a couple of years still - she will tell herself she's happier for it, she didn't like the confusion of love and guilt she felt around them.  
One day, she will learn her feelings are more normal than she ever thought, and make her more extraordinary than she ever imagined - but not because of her newfound, magical power, just because of her.  
There's a few years of routine to go through, first.

  
Ben will stay invisible and untouchable, stuck to a brother he loves and hates in seesawing waves of equal intensity, growing more and more resentful of a gift that he would have known how to treasure.  
He will feel the unfairness twist in his guts as violently as the Horror ever did, and he will dream of the impossible day when he'll be able to touch again, he won't be just a footprint, he'll have a foot.  
Then, years before, he will yield to his darkest impulses and get to touch, taste and briefly love again, in a body that isn't his own.   
He will recognize he had also been given a gift he had not appreciated at all, and he'll be ready to go, to die, decades before he was born - but he has much more life left to snoop on, before he can get there.

  
Luther will be cold, quiet and alone, and will keep hoping that someone will love him, all while knowing it won't happen for him, not soon, maybe never at all.  
He will daydream of the lives his siblings are living, and he will miss out on everything, like he always did.  
He will only come back to Earth when he's no longer needed on the Moon, because that is where Luther goes: where he's needed.   
He will tell himself that's why he listened to dad for so long, he was needed; one day, he will learn what it's like to be actually needed, and he'll learn that he is good, and his siblings do love him. He will take one small step for mankind but a giant leap for man towards loving himself too.

  
Meanwhile, and at all points in time, the Handler will breathe a sigh of relief: it's all still on track, no need to stage elaborate interventions - for now.

  
One day their father will die, their child older brother will come back, and they will end the world - but as everything else ends around them, they will begin to know each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like all good self-respecting dummies, I had no plan for where this would go; about halfway through I just figured it would go here, which is nowhere at all, and just be another layer of trauma in the millefeuille of abuse these characters are, because why not, apparently I'm a sadist, who knew.
> 
> Sorry this meandered so much just to get right back to the very start, I kinda shackled myself to canon and couldn't heal them without erasing all of it - it would also probably take me a psych degree to even come close to believably healing any of them.  
> I hate most of what I wrote, but I kept hating it more every time I reworked it, so this is mainly second or third passes at best, unbetaed and self-indulgent. For some reason, though, it just wouldn't leave me alone, and it was a fun way to kill time in quarantine - and by 'fun' I mean a little heartbreaking, turns out I really love all this disastrously broken characters.
> 
> Thank you very much for the kind comments, I read all of them, but I'm a sucker for 'death of the author' and didn't know if I could resist the temptation to tell people what I meant to do; I may go in and respond in the next couple of days, sorry for the bad etiquette.
> 
> Stay safe and take care :)


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